


Jays

by silencethroughwords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 13, Canon-Typical Violence, Djinni & Genies, Gen, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Mild Blood, Post-Episode: s13e06 Tombstone, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-08-23 10:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20241463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silencethroughwords/pseuds/silencethroughwords
Summary: Jesse Turner was pretty okay with a semi-normal, although not completely (or at all) monster free life, until he started seeing things. One thing. A person. Or, well, the son of Satan - the other type of Antichrist - if you want to get technical about it.Or how Jack dealt with the death of the guard when he disappeared in early-ish season 13.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi~ so I usually post works to AO3 after I'm done, but this time I'm posting as I go.
> 
> I've wanted to explore Jack as a character and how he would compare to (the completely abandoned) Jesse Turner AKA the OG Antichrist. At this point in time, Jesse is about 20 years old. It takes place in season 13. I may or may not diverge from canon at some point.
> 
> Enjoy~ and let me know what you think!

Dancing is its own flavor of freedom.

It doesn't have to be anything elaborate. You don't have to know what you're doing, or what you should be doing. All you have to do is let your body feel the tunes, the vibrations in the air, the vibrations that rocked through the pile of bodies around you, like Jesse did. There was just something about jumping around with a bunch of strangers, some of them real, some of them spun up from whatever random part of his mind that was at the surface that exact moment, that did it for him. That grabbed onto every last bit of stress, of thought even, and escaped through his limbs.

Being completely non-human, completely invulnerable to what makes the human body sweat and shake and run out of breath, must suck. Part of the reason Jesse felt this sense of euphoria that washed over his senses was the breathlessness of it all. The way his chest rose and fell under the hands of what he likes to call his dance partners, made up as they were, and the way his muscles ached after a couple of hours. It was one of those rare moments where he felt actually human.

Today wasn't any different.

He'd open his eyes every few minutes, usually to get lost in the colors that reflected off everything in the club. Sometimes to make sure there wasn't anything going on that he was missing - this particular club was sort of a home base to him after all, and he would want to help if his help was needed in some way. There usually wasn't a lot of trouble - not here. You'd be surprised how civil a bunch of monsters can be in a setting like this. How respectful. But there was still the occasional fight, the occasional person who'd bite off more than they can chew - or in most cases, are _ allowed _to chew. And for some reason, he felt like one of those could be coming.

Something didn't feel right.

But there was nothing out of place. Well, not in the usual sense anyway. People were still dancing, others drinking, or otherwise engaging in consensual activity of some kind. Security was not alert. The music flowed without interruptions. What was it then? It took him a minute, but he almost stopped completely. He frowned, or somehow indicated his confusion because one of the guards who knew him took notice and started following his gaze to see if something was wrong. There wasn't. Not really. But who _ was _that?

Across the dance floor, on the actual, well, _ floor, _someone in entirely too much clothes for a summery night out in Berlin - a heavy caramel jacket and full-blown jeans and heavy duty boots - sat cross legged, staring down at the ground. There wasn't anything wrong with it per se, other than how he weird he looked, like he was photoshopped into the scene by an amateur - even the lighting was wrong. There was also the hazardous nature of where he was sitting; someone could trip over him or accidentally kick him in the face, but the guard didn't seem to care. The dude just kept staring down, his hand hovering at shoulder-level and being pulled up, like he was trying to control a puppet or levitate something using his sheer power of will -

Is that a pencil? On the ground?

At this point, Jesse was entirely too focused on that one guy that his dancing gradually stopped, and he found his way out of the crowd and towards the aspiring telekinetic. The hands around him, his partners, dispersed and vanished into thin air. No one usually noticed, and if they did, it probably wasn't the weirdest thing they saw in that place.

“Hey!”

Dude didn’t hear him. Or was actively ignoring him.

Jesse leaned down to poke his shoulder. “Hey. Dude.”

Nope. Nothing. Was he on something? He could be. Jesse went down to his knees, trying to get a good look to see if this was A Situation that needed to be handled. Or just if the weird dude was alright. And this time, he responded. Or at least, he looked Jesse straight in the eye.

For a second. And then he vanished.

Jesse blinked and stood up. What the actual fuck? Very few creatures could do that - zap, like he could. And he didn’t think that was zapping anyway; he usually felt that. He usually saw a movement of some kind, was able to trace after them for a short period of time. It could be something he’s never encountered before, but it just didn’t feel right. Dude disappeared like one of Jesse’s own creations disappeared.

He didn’t...make him, did he?

One way to find out. Or narrow it down. He raised his hand, flagged down one of the guards - Kris. “Did you see a guy here?” he asked, “Sitting on the floor? Just a few minutes ago?”

Kris shook his head. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Kris said, “It’s a pretty tame night tonight.”

Then it couldn’t have been one of Jesse’s. Those were usually public. Most of the time. He altered reality around him, and that included reality for everyone else. Sure, he might’ve had the occasional, private hallucination. Especially when the club owner invited all her Djinn friends for a night or so. But if it was something _ he _created, someone else would’ve noticed.

“You okay?”

“Hm, what?” Jesse said, “Yeah, yeah. Must’ve had one too many beers, you know.”

Kris snickered, but patted Jesse on the shoulder and went back to his post.

“Jesse?”

He turned around. This time, one of his.

“You coming back?” she asked, extending her arm towards him, “Come on. Let’s dance.”

It didn’t sit right with him, what happened. He didn’t like loose ends. But if she’s asking him back to the dance floor, a part of him must’ve wanted to let go of this already. Go back. Breathe. Flush this and the entirety of the previous week out of his system.

“Sure.”

\---

It was like a phantom itch.

Jesse couldn’t forget that dude from the club. He didn’t usually get this fixated on random strangers; it released a whole slew of feelings and thoughts that were best kept in a box locked far, far away. But. _ But, but, but. _

It didn’t interrupt the rhythm of his life. Not for a few days anyway. He still went home. Still fed his cat. Still watered his plants. Still went to work. Still stayed on top of all of his appointments. Still made all of his meetings. Still did his grocery shopping. Still lived. But he did every single one of this thing with a huge list of _ what if _s in the back of his mind.

Until he saw him again.

This time, it wasn’t just him. And he didn’t blend into his surroundings. It was more like he was there, wherever he was, with him. And that place sure as fuck wasn’t the _ U-Bahn. _ It was so surreal, so out of place, that Jesse almost missed his stop. _ Almost _because while he was with him, he was also still very much in the same spot, still hanging on to the yellow pole as the train shook and moved.

But he was also _ not? _

He was also in a hallway, watching that dude press his back against the wall, listening to a conversation in another room. He couldn’t make out the words, exactly. Maybe he could’ve if his heart wasn’t pounding in his ear. If he had more of a grasp on the whole situation. If he didn’t feel his chest tighten. If he didn’t feel as trapped as that dude looked. As hurt.

Then he started saying something - that dude. Started mumbling at first, but then it became clearer. _ “Castiel _,” he said. Castiel. That rang a bell in Jesse’s head. Which, he wasn’t sure. But it sure as hell wasn’t the first time he’d heard that name.

“_ Castiel. _”

His eyes glowed bright gold and Jesse froze. Both here and there. Every muscle in him. He’d seen his fair share of colorful eyes that glowed in moments of power. It never mattered. He’d grown used to it, he thought. But it wasn’t the sight of it, it was like at the same time something else unlocked in his head. Something cleared up.

Something fell into place.

“_ Entschuldigung _ ,” someone behind Jesse said. “ _ Entschuldigung!” _

Jesse didn’t move. Not in the way the stranger behind him expected to, anyway. He didn’t care about the 50-something people on the train. Or the cameras he knew were recording. He wasn’t in control. Not really. And he knew what to do. The only thing he felt he could do at that exact second.

_ Zap _, and he was gone.

\--

“Are you fucking _ stupid? _”

“I’m so sorry,” Jesse said, “I don’t know what happened. I panicked and had to get out.”

Tamara sighed. “You were _ literally _ at your stop,” she said. “Do you know how much work this is?”

“I’m _ sorry _ ,” Jesse repeated to his boss, over the phone, from his bed. “I _ know _ -”

“I don’t think you _ do _,” she said, “That’s a lot of people. People who could’ve texted, could’ve told someone, could’ve panicked themselves,” she said, “And the cameras. God, do you know how many backups they have of this shit? How many times it syncs with how many servers?”

“It would probably look like a glitch on video. People see what they understand -”

“Yeah. Humans do,” she said, “What happens not _ if _ but _ when _ someone who’s not exactly human sees this? Or worse,” she said, “A hunter. All it takes is a weird tweet. A compromised server. Anything. And a hunter will be looking for you in a _ minute. _”

“I know.”

“Men of Letters look for the slightest -”

“_ I know,” _ Jesse snapped, “I fucking know, okay? I said I was sorry. I called you as soon as it happened. I can make it right, just tell me where and what and I’ll do it.”

“No,” she sighed, “Not when you’re like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she said, “Look. I’ll handle it. But you should come in. We need to talk about this.”

“I’ll come in tonight.”

“Jesse,” she said, “This has never happened. Not with you. Not like this,” she said, “I think you should come in now.”

“So you can probe my head for answers?”

“Seriously?” she said, “_ Seriously? _ That’s what you think?”

“I don’t -” He sighed. Took a deep breath. “I’ll come in tonight.”

“Fine. You fucking better.” She hung up.

His cat crawled into his lap, slithering his tail on his chest, and he breathed a little easier. He wasn’t used to this. The last time he felt this anxious was - he didn’t even want to think about that. It just wasn’t him. He wasn’t the anxious type. Not the panicky type. Not the call-Tamara-for-exposure-control type. He used to make fun of those types.

_ Fuck. _ What the fuck is happening?

Castiel. He didn’t remember where he knew the name from, but it sounded angel-y. A quick Google search proved him right - Angel of Thursday. Who was that dude he saw, and what did he have to do with Castiel? The way he was calling for the angel wasn’t angry. He was someone he longed for. Jesse knew, because he felt it. It wasn’t a prayer, but it was as close to a religious calling as it could get. Almost like a summoning, except Jesse didn’t have a frame of reference for those.

Why would he want to even try and summon one of those fuckers on _ purpose? _

The problem is: as anxious as this whole experience has made him, as much as it reminded him of a time of his life he’d put behind him, he knew it wasn’t something he could just ignore. But he’s dealt with angels and angel-ally types before. And before he did anything else, he had to make sure it wasn’t a trick. That it wasn’t some angel, or some _ archangel _, going the mental route to take away whatever control he had over his life.

To use him for his power. Again.

His cat wouldn’t get off his lap, so he gently scooped it as he zapped away to the abandoned corner of one of the parks he had hideaways in. Well, they weren’t exactly hideaways. More like invisible patches. Humans and non-humans alike couldn’t detect it, not without some very well-crafted and well-customized spellwork. If someone ran in its direction, for example, it gently re-routed them along its parameter. GPS and signals in general were also cut off, so their fitness trackers or their phones didn’t work anyway.

Tamara didn’t know about those. No one did.

The cat climbed over his shoulder and stayed there. “Don’t blame me when you fall.”

_ Meow. _

“Yeah, okay,” Jesse said, rolling his sleeves up and crouching so he could bury his hands in the damp soil. He closed his eyes and pulled on the strings of his spell. He felt it then, every corner of the entire city. Every part where his spell ran through, where his warding stood high. Proud. Untouched. Completely intact.

No angels. No demons. None of them even scratched the surface.

There was no way this was the work of either, then. There was no way they could get in, mentally or otherwise, without affecting this in some way. Okay. _ Okay. _ So it wasn’t an angel. Or a demon. Didn’t feel like a hallucination either. This guy - he was real. Jesse knew without a doubt that he was. Whoever he was. Wherever he was. Jesse knew more than he _ knew. _ Call it instinct. Call it whatever. But he knew more than his brain let on.

Maybe he _ should _let Tamara probe his head.

_ Meow. _

But not before he goes back home.

\---

Jack _ tried. _

He tried to control the pencil. To bring Castiel back. To find a hunt for the Winchesters. And it worked. It was going so well, too. Everything was. Everything was exactly as it should be. Exactly as he wanted it to be.

Until the guard.

Jack came into the world with a few advantages - a skillset. His mother passed her knowledge down to him - her language, her fear of the unknown, her fear for _ him _ , and how he’d turn out. He tried to take it to heart - he’s been _ trying _ \- but he was nowhere near as prepared as she probably thought he was. He wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of guilt, of incompetence, of the weight that overwhelmed every single sense in his body.

They kept saying it wasn’t his fault. That these things happen. That it could be “handled”, or fixed, or whatever. But it _ was _ his fault. Even if it looked like an accident. Even if it _ was _ an accident. What Sam and Dean and Castiel failed to see was that Jack knew exactly how much power he had. He knew exactly what kind of damage he could do, what kind of damage he was capable of. And he was scared. Damn well terrified. Didn’t they see it?

What he did to that guard didn’t even _ scratch the surface _ of what he _ could’ve _done.

That was him _ trying - _ in _ control. _ That was him coming up with a plan and going in when he didn’t even have to. Sam and Dean could’ve handled the situation just fine without him, but at that moment he felt like he could do it. Imagine what could’ve happened if he was in an actual fight he was forced into. He could slip _ so easily _ and he wouldn’t even feel it. What he did was effortless, and it cost a man _ his life. _ Jack couldn’t even _ begin _to think about the implications of this.

And that was Jack _ trying to be good. _

So he left. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do after, but he knew it was the right thing to do then. He had to find a way to get a grasp on this whole thing, and it wasn’t going to be around the people he cared about. Not that close to them. Not when he could so easily not only hurt them, but disappoint them. Push them to fight him, or try to control him. Or, in Dean’s case, try to kill him.

And it felt natural. He just left.

He ended up in a string of different places that day. Didn’t know where exactly, and didn’t care. The only common factor between all of the places he’d flown to was that _ person. _ The one he’d caught glimpses of before. Not once had that person felt out of place, like he wasn’t supposed to be there. He never mentioned him to the Winchesters or Castiel, even though he could tell they didn’t see him. He felt familiar, somehow. Private, like a thought in Jack’s head. He didn’t share many of those either.

Jack didn’t stop hopping until he found himself exactly where he was supposed to be. Lenny Graham’s funeral. The guard not only had a family but an entire _ community _ of people who missed him. Who sat in rows and rows of chairs while people took turns saying how good he was, how caring, how he was gone too soon. Who were crying, and laughing, and displaying a range of emotions so wide Jack wasn’t sure he could physically bear it.

So he left. Again. He couldn’t trust himself around this many people. Not right now. Not like this.

He didn’t know where he ended up next. The rain, the smell of wet grass, and the general lack of presence of any people made it so it didn’t matter either way. Jack sat there. For hours. It didn’t feel like he could fully comprehend what was going on, not yet. It was all just too much, too many things happening, too overwhelming.

Was that what his life was going to be like forever?

Will he always be this confused? It felt like he was stumbling instead of walking. Like everything he did was forced, and wrong. Just out of place. In a way, he supposed that was true of him as well. He was never meant to be born. Never meant to have such power. Never meant to be.

Even his mother knew that at one point.

He didn’t remember everything about the time he was a fetus, but he remembered _ this. _ She didn’t think he should’ve been born, and maybe her first instinct was right. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought her back, shouldn’t have brought himself back that day. Maybe he shouldn’t have reassured her that it would all be okay.

It’s clearly _ not. _

So where does he go from here? Where, in this whole universe, could he possibly fit? Not among humans. Not among his family. Definitely not in heaven, or anywhere that would want to exploit him for his power. Or kill him for it.

Maybe he wasn’t an expert on geography, but he was pretty sure that left him with _ nowhere. _

And for now, just for now, he didn’t feel like doing anything about it. He just wanted the thought to go away. He wanted to go back to that moment of peace, that one moment of peace when he was still in his mother’s womb and everything was _ alright. _ Or when he was eating that nougat. Or when he found out that Castiel was back. Just one of those moments. Any of those moments. Forever.

Was that too much to ask?

He felt someone behind him, but he didn’t turn. It was that person. Not a human. No one he could be a danger to. So he let it go. Just continued to stare at the grass and to try to be immersed in the sound and feel of the heavy drops of rain on it and him.

Maybe if he just stayed here forever it would all be okay.

The person from his thoughts sat next to him. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black pants, and his tattooed arms wrapped around his knees. He glanced towards Jack with a grimace and extended a hand towards him. But it was empty, so Jack wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to be doing. With a sigh, the person found Jack’s hand with his and gave it a light squeeze.

That person wasn’t there. Not _ physically _, at least. Jack knew that. But he still felt his hand on his, and for some reason, his body decided to react with tears.

They both stayed there until Jack’s body gave up and went to sleep.

\---

“Hey. Hey, kid.”

Jack rolled over, covering his eyes with his forearm. The sun was a little too aggressive, he thought. It stabbed his brain from the inside somehow. “Are you talking to me?”

The old man standing above him with a stick in his hand made a show of looking everywhere around him. “Well there’s no one else here, is there?”

Jack sat up, unamused.

“You don’t look homeless.”

“I am not.”

“So what are you doing spending the night in the middle of my farm, huh?”

“Oh.” Jack jumped to his feet. “I didn’t know. I am so sorry. I was…” He paused. “Wandering. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

The old man grumbled. “Well, no use apologizing now,” he said, “You look like a good kid.”

“Thank you.”

“You want some breakfast?”

Castiel would probably tell him to politely decline, as is customary with most social invitations from complete strangers. But Jack was hungry and Dean would probably be legitimately mad at him if he declined the offer of free food. “That would be great, thank you.”

He followed the man to a small house, a few minutes of walking away. He hadn’t noticed that the day before, but there was also a chance he’d subconsciously flown while asleep. He did feel a bit sore all over, which was a first.

The house itself was a mess, like no one ever put anything back in its place. Sam would be very uncomfortable here. “Can I help?”

“Hm?”

“With breakfast.”

“Oh,” the man said, “No, that’s not necessary. I’ll make us some sandwiches.”

“Do you have peanut butter and jelly?”

The man stared at him incredulously for longer than what Jack was used to. “Sure.”

Jack smiled.

“Are you just gonna stay there?”

“Where do you want me to go?”

“You can wait in the living room,” the man said, pointing behind Jack, “Over there.”

The living room wasn’t as cluttered as other parts of the house, Jack thought. Actually, there was barely anything there at all, except for a TV, and a few worn out stuffed toys scattered on the floor in front of it. Jack was good at waiting. Or at least, he was better than the expectation seemed to be, according to Sam. He could sit on the couch and wait.

Even if he _ was _ really hungry. Exceptionally so.

Some time later, Jack was getting bored. The sun had moved behind him; he could tell from the shadows on the floor, but the man hadn’t returned with the food yet, or called for his help. Sometimes conversation helped time go faster. “Do you have children?”

No answer. He must’ve not heard him. Frowning, Jack went back to the now-empty kitchen. No one there, no traces of toast or eggs or any ingredients, really. Maybe the man went to get some groceries, but something didn’t feel right. He would’ve said something to his guest, no?

Outside, Jack heard the rumble of an engine. Good, he must be back now. He walked to the front door. “I didn’t know where you went!”

“Neither did we, Jack.”

Wait, who _ was _ that, and why did she know his name?

It wasn’t just one person stepping out of that truck, it was at least 8. Some of them had angel blades drawn. All of them walking towards him. Jack’s first instinct was to fight, but he didn’t want to hurt anyone, not again. They might be angels, but they had very human, very alive hosts. Not all angels were like Castiel.

What’s the next best thing? Flying. He could fly away. But what about that man? Where did he go? Did the angels hurt him? Did -

“Listen, Jack,” one of the angels said, “We just want you to come home. To heaven, with us. It’s where you belong.”

No, the angels’ intentions were pretty clear, and it wasn’t that. Maybe the next best thing, if he couldn’t fight them, was to fly.

“No, no, no. Not this time.”

Angel radio. How they did it - scream and screech and tear his brain apart with their collective voices - was beyond him.

“Oh my God, you fucking idiot,” someone from behind Jack said. It was that person - the one from his thoughts. He was actually there. He was _ real? _ “Are you just gonna let them treat you like this? Jeez. Have some self respect, would you.”

An angel gestured towards that person and Jack felt the force sent to what he assumed was physically throw him back, but he didn’t move an inch. “Who are you?” The angel asked. “_ What _are you?”

He rolled his eyes and pushed Jack back by the shoulders, stepping in front of him. He had this energy around him, this dark aura. Not in the metaphorical sense. It literally looked like he’d just walked through some black cotton candy and emerged like this.

“I’m going to say this exactly once,” he said, “You will turn around right now and leave. You saw nothing,” he said, “You found no one. If you even do as much as _ think _ in the general direction of... _ Jack _over here,” he said, “You’re going to fucking regret it.”

“You’re -”

He sighed and turned towards Jack. “They always like to talk.”

And then they just stopped. They all froze in their place, and in front of Jack’s eyes, without Jack even doing anything, turned into stone.

“Did you do that?” Jack asked.

“...who else?”

“Their vessels are innocent.”

“And their vessels are...fine?” he scrunched his nose. “Honestly, I think their vessels are having the time of their lives right now. Finally some fucking peace, am I right.”

“But they’re _ stone. _”

“It’s complicated. They’re fine. I can’t kick angels out so I just inconvenience them for a while. Speaking of,” he said, “We need to go. More will be coming soon and I don’t really feel like making too many trips zapping them around.”

“Zapping them?”

“Well, they can’t fly,” he said, “So it’s probably best if they’re a bit scattered all over the planet, you know? Like I said, inconvenience.”

“Who _ are _you?”

“Jesse.” He extended a hand. “Jesse Turner.”


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mention of suicide. Nothing graphic, and it doesn't concern any of the main characters (in this story or SPN in general). No discussion of it or anything either.
> 
> Enjoy~ and let me know what you think please!

** _Two weeks earlier_ **

“Ugh, you think you can take that to the bio hazard room?”

Paulo scowled at Jesse and took his sweet time with his popsicle, audibly popping it out and everything. “It’s a free country.” He crossed his legs together and swirled a bit on his high seat, pointing at Tamara. “She said I had to stay, and it’s like thirty-six degrees outside. If you want to blame anything, blame global warming.”

“He’ll clean it up,” Tamara said, “It’s fine.”

“It’s human blood.”

“And strawberries!”

“Human  _ blood _ ,” Jesse repeated, “In my studio. In my  _ sterile  _ studio.”

“Oh get over yourself,” Paulo said.

“People get tattooed here!”

“Most of them eat this, or some variation of this,” Paulo insisted, “Careful there, this is almost bordering on discrimination. Boss, this is a hostile work environment. I can’t eat my lunch in peace.”

Tamara huffed. “Jesse,” she said, “Let it go. And you,” she looked at Paulo, “Shut up, and let me do what we came here to do.”

Jesse crossed his arms over his chest, but kept any further arguments to himself. Paulo just wiggled his eyebrows at him and kept slurping. “Alright. What do you want me to do?”

“Jesse wants me to look around in his head a little,” Tamara explained, “I can’t do that without giving him a bit of poison first.”

“Oh damn.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tamara said, “I have an antidote here. And he can heal himself anyway. But he has to be conscious for that, so.”

“...so…” Paulo said, “Still not following. What am I supposed to do?”

“I haven’t fed in a while,” Tamara said, “So I need someone else to be able to give him the antidote in case things get out of hand and I have to leave.”

Paulo offered the rest of his popsicle. “I have more in the freezer.”

“Ew. No,” Tamara said, “People feel either charitable or resentful when they’re donating blood. Both are equally disgusting.”

“Choosing beggar much?”

“Paulo.”

“Fine, whatever,” he said, “Where’s the needle?” She handed it to him. “You got any rubbing alcohol or -”

“For fuck’s sake!”

“Fine,  _ whatever _ , enjoy your infection!” Paulo said.

“I will murder you one day.”

“Boss.”

“Jesse.”

“He’s being a  _ child. _ ”

“You’re both being children,” Tamara said, “God, I feel like I’m running a daycare sometimes. I’m doing this for your sake.”

Jesse took a deep breath.

“You’ll be fine,” Tamara said, “Do you want to sit?”

“I’m good.”

“You’ll fall and crack your head or injure your spine,” Paulo said. “And thanks to you we don’t have any of those winged healers down here.”

Jesse was practically pouting at this point, but he wouldn’t give Paulo the satisfaction of a response. He just silently sat down on his chair and looked up to his boss. She kneeled in front of him and gave him half a smile that disappeared as soon as her eyes started burning bright blue, and tattoos started visualizing on her skin.

“Don’t die.”

She put both her hands on the sides of his head and he hissed. It was so hot, almost acidic, and it took a little longer than it would’ve with someone more human than he was, but eventually, he felt his vision fade. His hearing followed, and the next thing he knew he was waking up in his bed.

Well. Not  _ his  _ bed. Not anymore.

This was his bed from his childhood home. The Turner house. He still had posters of Australia on the wall and everything. In his hand was a note - the note he left his parents before he zapped himself away to the beach all those years ago.

Lovely. Just what he needed.

He left the note on the bed and walked downstairs. There were people there - those hunters and that angel, yes. His bio mom’s body was slumped over in the chair he forced her on, and the angel was waking her up. The hunters were mumbling something he couldn’t quite make out among themselves, then the shorter one turned to the angel. “I think we should go, Cas.”

Cas.

“We should get her back to her house,”  _ Cas  _ suggested, “Maybe erase her memory of tonight, as a kindness.”

“She saw her kid,” the other hunter said, “And she already knows about demons and stuff. Let’s just take her home and have her decide what she does with what she knows.”

Kill herself. That’s what she does with it. But Jesse didn’t want to interject.

“Castiel,” Tall Hunter said, “The kid. Do you think Lucifer will find him?”

_ Castiel. _

“I don’t think he can.” True. “But he will spare no resource. The boy is supposed to be one of his greatest weapons against heaven.”

“If he’s supposed to be one of Lucifer’s weapons against heaven,” Sam said, “Why can’t he find him?”

Castiel sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “The ongoing theory is that the boy is supposed to seek him because of the way his power is tied to him.”

“So you’re telling me,” Short Hunter said, “that this kid is supposed to become, what, power hungry? Give me a break.”

“The truth is we don’t know much about the boy,” Castiel said, “Only that there’s only one of him.”

“Even though demons could’ve...done this to other women?”

“It wasn’t just any demon, Sam,” Castiel said, “This demon was on a mission. He was chosen thousands of years ago and given this power. Much like you and Dean.”

“Great. More of this ‘great plan’ bullshit, or whatever.”

Jesse remembered this conversation. He didn’t think about it much, especially not after the whole apocalypse thing was put to rest. But that day, he didn’t leave right away. He put everything back to what it was supposed to be and stuck around, just invisible. He knew he could, somehow, so he did. After they were gone, after he made sure they didn’t hurt his parents, he left.

But he didn’t remember it like that. Not really. He just remembered being scared, wanting to run away. He remembered knowing he couldn’t be found if he didn’t want to be found and that was it. He remembered knowing it was only one of him, and that he was going to be on his own unless he wanted to be dead or follow the devil’s honestly-not-that-appealing plan.

So that’s Castiel then.

So what does that make the guy he kept seeing? Some other kid they found at the same time? But this one didn’t run, did he? He stayed with them. Or at least, with Castiel. Huh. Guess they did follow through with their “X-Men” promise. But that doesn’t explain things. It doesn’t explain why he could see him. Why he could feel what he felt, be in the moment with him.

It doesn’t explain why he was connected to him.

Because he wasn’t like him, was he? Jesse’s eyes didn’t glow. If it weren’t for the occasional trick, no one would be able to tell Jesse wasn’t human at all. Not even when he was actively using his power. And  _ gold? _ He hadn’t seen that color on any creature. Not naturally anyway.

“I’m done.”

Nothing happened.

“Tamara,” Jesse said, “I’m done. I want out.”

“Did you hear something?” Sam said, “I think I heard something upstairs.”

_ Why?  _ In his own damn dream.

“ _ Tamara.” _

He felt a sharp pain in his arm.

“We should check it out.”

Fine. Whatever. If no one was going to snap him out of this, he was going to do it himself. It usually didn’t take more than a thought for him to be able to do something. But it wasn’t working this time. The hunters were rushing up the stairs and the angel flew in beside him.

“You’re...the boy. But, how?”

What? He wasn’t supposed to be able to see him. In his own goddamn dream. “I’m waking up soon.”

“Waking up?”

“And you know what,” Jesse said, “It’s not cool. Yanking kids out of their homes because of some stupid war no one fucking asked for.”

“Did you time travel?”

“I bet that kid has Stockholm Syndrome.”

“What child?”

“X-Men my ass.”

“ _ Jesse!” _

The rush of fresh air to his lungs sent Jesse jumping off his chair. Paulo caught him before he fell and put him back up. His vision was still blurry, but he could see Tamara in the corner, her hand covering her mouth, watching him like he’d grown a new limb.

“You okay, man?”

“M’fine.”

“No, look at me,” Paulo said, hands on Jesse’s cheeks. Which was...weird. He was basically squishing his face. “Are you okay? You feel anything weird? Pain, or, uh, anything else?”

“No, what the fuck,” Jesse said, pushing Paulo’s hands away, “I’m fine. What the hell happened?”

“You were gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah, man,” Paulo said, “No pulse, nothing.”

“I used too much poison,” Tamara mumbled, “I- I’m so sorry, I thought -”

“Hey, I’m fine,” Jesse said, “I am. What did you see?”

“Uhm,” Tamara said, licking her lips, “Not much. I knew it would be difficult with you - it was that last time,” she said, “But I didn’t see anything. Did you?”

“A little, yeah.” He sat up. “Hey. I really am okay.”

“We are never doing that again,” Tamara said, “You hear me? Never. Next time, go to a therapist. Or a psychic. Or whatever.”

“So.”

“So?”

“What did you see?” Paulo asked.

He looked at Tamara. “That night I left my house,” he said, “In the US.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Apparently the angel there is somehow connected to this whole thing,” Jesse said, “The guy I see in my head is basically in the same situation I would’ve been in if I didn’t leave.”

He’d told Tamara about this. Long ago. She nodded. “So he’s reaching out to you.”

Jesse frowned. “I don’t think he is.”

Paulo raised his hand. “So let me get this straight,” he said, “You see someone ‘in your head’ that has powers like yours?”

“Not really,” Jesse said, “I dunno. I don’t know what his powers are.”

“But he’s like you. Biologically.”

“Unclear.”

“Does he talk to you?”

“Not really?”

“What are you thinking, Paulo?”

“Maybe this is an Alpha situation.”

Tamara frowned. “You think?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jesse said. “No way. I’m not a…”

“If you say  _ monster… _ ”

“Well, yeah?” he said, “I’m not a race or anything. I didn’t...originate from an Alpha somehow.”

“And how do you know that?” Paulo asked. “How do you know there’s no Alpha cambion, or whatever?”

“Because there are no other cambions.”

“Except this one you see.”

“I don’t even think he’s a cambion.”

“But you’re connected to him.”

Tamara hummed. “If it is an Alpha thing -”

“It’s not.”

“Okay, but hear me out,” Tamara said, “You’re half demon, half human, right?”

“Yes?”

“And the equivalent of an Alpha to demons is the devil.”

“That kid is not the devil.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “But that could be the link.”

“That son of a bitch has no control over me,” Jesse said, standing up, “He can’t find me. He can’t contact me. And he sure as hell can’t  _ connect me _ to other - other - whatever the fuck he is.”

“But if he is…”

“No,” Jesse said, “And you know what? I think I’m just gonna figure this out on my own. Thanks for your help and all,” he said, “But this is my thing now.”

“And what happened in the _ U-Bahn?” _

“Won’t happen again. I promise.”

\---

** _Now_ **

Jesse decided to observe.

Ever since that day with Tamara, it was the only thing he did when he wasn’t at work. He learned to detect that spark, that connection, and just lean into it, no matter where he was or when it happened. He didn’t attempt to do anything, just watch the person he found out later was called Jack.

He still couldn’t figure him out. Not completely.

All he knew was that Jack was lost. For some reason, he wasn’t tapping into his power as easily as Jesse or even any other non-human being Jesse knew did. He was struggling, trying to train, trying to behave exactly as expected of him by the people around him. And then one day, someone got hurt.

That’s when he knew he had to interfere. When he  _ wanted  _ to interfere.

“Where are we?”

Jesse sighed, hands on his hips. They were on the side of the road, but there weren’t many cars around. Not at that hour anyway. “Zone C.”

“Zone C?”

“Yeah it’s technically still Berlin,” Jesse said, “Though that depends on who you ask.”

“Berlin?”

“Germany.”

“Germany?”

“...Planet Earth?”

Jack frowned. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t have a lot of time to study many countries around the world.”

“Like, ever?”

“Ever since I was born,” Jack said, “I have read about some places, but they’re mostly in the United States.”

“...well,” Jesse said, “Welcome to Europe I guess?”

“What are we doing here?”

“I couldn’t get us in,” Jesse said, “I’m guessing that has something to do with the spell I have. So. Biology time. What are you, exactly?”

“I’m…” Jack paused. “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“I just saved your ass.”

“I know,” Jack said, “Thank you for that. But I have been hunted for what I am.”

“So has everyone who’s not completely human,” Jesse said, “Or well. Pretty much most of the world, human or not, in some way or another.”

“I haven’t read about human history much.”

“You should. It’s a shit-show.” Jesse stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Listen. I know you’re either angel or demon or both. The only thing I know is that you’re not a full-blown demon.”

“Why do you say that?”

“...okay,” Jesse said, “So. Do you know what  _ I  _ am?”

“Until very recently,” Jack said, “I thought you were someone I imagined. Like a thought in my head.”

“Uh, no.” Jesse raised his shoulders. “Obviously.”

“Then what are you?”

“Half-demon, half-human.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Not really.”

“Do demons hunt you, too?” Jack asked, “Do they want you to go to hell, like angels want me to go to heaven?”

“Not for a long time,” Jesse said, “Thanks to this spell.”

“I see.” Jack smiled. “Well. I’m also half-human. And half-angel. Well, archangel, technically.”

“Fuck me.” Jesse sighed. “You’re Lucifer’s son.”

How could he have missed this? Jesus fuck, what an idiot. The monster community online, on the dark web and otherwise, has been buzzing about this for  _ months. _ He just assumed, like most others, that it was a _ baby _ somewhere. And when no one heard about him outside of angels and demons, the general consensus was that someone caught or killed him.

But somehow Lucifer’s son was almost Jesse’s age.

Jack’s face fell. “So you do know,” he said, “It’s who I am, but my father is not Lucifer. It’s Castiel. You’ve seen him.”

“I know who he is.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

That earned him a laugh. “Hurt me?”

“You’re not...afraid?”

“Of what?”

“Of me.”

“Hah. No.” He shifted on his feet. “No. I’m just. I dunno. We’ll talk about this later. I need to adjust the spell. I just. I don’t know how.”

Jack frowned. “I don’t know much about spells. What is this one supposed to do?”

“Keep angels and demons out.”

“But you’re half-demon.”

“Well, yeah, I worked in an exception for me, obviously,” he said, “But you. I’d have to rework the ingredients, I think. But for now…”

“For now?”

“I can weaken it a bit,” he said, “Just from the...angel side. But not completely. I assume you’re sturdier than your standard issue Wing, but it might affect your power a bit. Dampen it a bit.”

“But why?” Jack asked, “I don’t need your help. I can fly as well,” he said, “I can just leave.”

Jesse shrugged. “That you can do,” he said, “Anytime you want. Even in there. But I think you’ll like it here.”

“Okay.”

“Alright then,” Jesse said, “Stand back, this might hurt.”

\--

Jesse didn’t have a plan.

What? He wasn’t exactly planning on bringing Jack back with him. He just didn’t want him to be taken or hurt by the angels, not when he could do something about it. And he wanted to go home.

So he brought Jack back.

But now what? Jesse had to work. Both at the club and, uh,  _ otherwise. _ He couldn’t just take him everywhere with him. And he didn’t know the dude well enough to leave him at his apartment, did he?

“What do you want to do?”

Jack looked up from his food. They’d been sitting at this small Vietnamese restaurant near Jesse’s place, at one of the bench-table things outside. He swallowed and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve never traveled outside of the US, have you?”

“No.”

“So,” he said, “Do you wanna do some of the tourist stuff? You know,” he said, taking a sip of his lemonade, “See a few museums, take a boat tour, that kind of thing?”

“I’ve never been to a museum.”

“That’s...sad, dude,” he said, “Here.” He slipped out his wallet. “I’mma give you some cash, you can get one of those tickets for the whole Museum Island or something. It’s been a while since I went.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’ve gotta work.”

“Are you a hunter?”

“ _ Whoa. _ ” Jesse said, eyes wide. “Whoa. You did not just say that to me. Excuse  _ you. _ ”

“What?”

“Don’t let anyone ever hear you say that,” Jesse said, “Not around here. And  _ definitely _ not at the club.”

Jack stuffed his face with some rice. “Why not?”

“Because you’ll be mostly talking to the type that’s usually  _ hunted. _ ” Jesse paused. “That includes you and me.”

He grimaced. “Yes, I know that but,” he said, “We can be good, too.”

“...good?”

“Yes,” he said, “We don’t have to be evil.”

Jesse blinked. Was he having a stroke? “Do you think hunters are... _ good?” _

“I think what they do is good.”

“Kill.”

“Kill  _ monsters. _ ”

“Oh, is that right?” Jesse said. He wasn’t too worried about people overhearing. It’s very easy to pass anything off as cosplaying or roleplaying or any -playing you could think of. “Killing monsters is good?”

“They usually find them after they’ve hurt someone,” Jack argued, “So they kill the monsters that hurt others.”

“You’ve hurt someone,” Jesse said, “Do you think you should be killed for it?”

“I -” Jack put his fork down. Stared at his hands, and shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to do it. But I still hurt someone. So. I don’t know. If a hunter wanted to kill me for it, I would fight for my life,” he explained, “But I wouldn’t blame them.”

“Wow,” Jesse said. “Just. Wow.”

“You’re powerful.”

“Aha.”

“So you’d understand. I could’ve done so much more damage than what happened to that person.”

“So?”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked. “I could hurt people.”

Jesse wasn’t about to touch Jack’s definition of ‘people’ with a ten-foot pole. But power? “So what? Anyone can hurt people at any given moment. See this guy over there?” He pointed at someone human-presenting crossing the street. “He could very easily kill a bunch of people, if he put his mind to it.”

“He’s human.”

“I know,” Jesse said, “But I believe in him.”

“I’m confused.”

“Dude,” he said, “If people should be killed because of their damage potential, no one would be alive.”

Jack opened his mouth as if to say something, but stuffed it with food instead.

“I know you’re upset about that person you hurt,” Jesse said, “And you should be, I guess. But what happened doesn’t make you a bad person. Doesn’t make you evil. And neither does what you  _ could _ do.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat, but said nothing.

“Now do you wanna go to the Museum Island or not?”

\---

Jack has faced off with a few creatures.

By the time he was born, he had fought and won against a Prince of Hell, for example. It was easy. It came so naturally to him. But this time, he wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to assume the best, but he wasn’t sure that was a smart idea.  _ He  _ was definitely smart. He’d been eyeing him, circling around him, assessing him. Jack couldn’t even figure out what his next move would be.

“It’s just a cat.”

“I know,” Jack said, eyes still fixed on the stretch of black fur with bright eyes in front of him, “I have seen them on the internet.”

Jesse emerged out of the bathroom with a toothbrush halfway out of his mouth. The apartment was small enough that Jack was in the far end of the living room and still had a full view of his host. “You’ve never  _ seen a cat?” _

“Not in person.”

“Wow, okay,” Jesse said, “Well Lucifer’s pretty nice.”

“Your cat’s name is  _ Lucifer?” _

“Luci- _ fur _ , with a  _ U _ ,” Jesse said, his grin proud, “Kind of after the cat in Cinderella. Not,  _ you know _ .”

“Cinderella.”

“The Disney movie…” Jesse said, “You know what, never mind.”

“I’ve seen Cinderella.”

“You have?”

“Yes,” Jack said, “Dean had a lot of Disney movies in the bunker.”

“Huh. Okay,” Jesse said, “Hey, why don’t you go to my room, get yourself something to wear? You can’t go out like this.”

Jack looked down at his t-shirt. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Don’t get me started,” Jesse said, going back in the bathroom. After a while, he said, “First off -” He stopped and sucked his cheek in. “Nevermind. It’s just not very appropriate where we’re going.”

“ _ ‘The club’.” _

“Yeah,” Jesse said, “Call me crazy but I have a feeling you’ve never gone clubbing in your life.”

Jack shifted in his seat, which was enough for the cat to declare victory and jump to his lap. His entire body froze but he wasn’t about to show how weirded out he actually felt to Jesse. “I- I might’ve.”

“Have you?”

“Maybe.”

Jesse narrowed his eyes at him. “Okay. But you’ve never been clubbing  _ here. _ ”

“That’s true.”

“So just -” Jesse disappeared into his room for a minute. Came out with a bunch of things in his arm. “Here. It’s nothing fancy,” he said, “But it’s clean. And I think about your size.”

Jack nodded but didn’t dare move a muscle to take the clothes from him.

“Luci,” Jesse called and motioned to the cat, “Leave the poor guy alone, will you? Here.” He threw him a toy with a string hanging out of it. “Go play.”

Lucifur hopped off, but not before smacking Jack’s chest with his tail.  _ Ouch? _

“Uh, thanks.”

Jesse smiled. “The son of Satan,” he said, “Versus one small cat.”

Jack took the clothes with a scowl.

“So. Ground rules,” Jesse said, “First off: do you want to tell people who you are?”

“No.”

“Alright,” Jesse said, “You don’t need to, that’s fine. But some people there might, uh, smell the power on you, for lack of a better term,” he said, “They won’t be able to place it exactly.”

“How do you know that for sure?”

“I won’t let them,” Jesse said matter-of-factly. “I have some pull over the general, uh, perception over there. If you want,” he said, “I can make you pass off as something else entirely, like a werewolf, or something, but then someone will try to have some weirdly specific conversation with you and…”

“I don’t like lying.”

“That’s...also fair,” Jesse said, “So we’ll just leave it at  _ ambiguous powerful creature. _ That works.”

“Can’t I pass off as human? I am still half-human, after all.”

“Ooh no that’s a whole other thing,” Jesse said, “Humans are rarely allowed. It will get you so much more attention.”

“Okay.”

“And then there’s another thing: consent is the major theme. Don’t let anyone do anything to you that you don’t, uh, want done to you, and vice versa. That includes...well, everything. I don’t know what you can do exactly,” he said, “But assume they don’t want it unless they specifically say so. Same goes to you - if anyone oversteps or does something you’re uncomfortable with, find me or flag the nearest security guard. Does that make sense?”

Jack frowned, but he understood the concept. It made sense, in a way. In a place where people are supposed to be in one way or another powerful, having a rule like this would even out the playing field. It would allow everyone to be there without being afraid of what others could do. Huh. Okay. “Yes.”

Jesse pulled out his phone and checked something. “So I don’t have any appointments there tonight,” he said, “But we should be there in an hour if you wanna get in before the weekend crowd.”

Jack nodded.

“Cool,” Jesse said, stepping out, Lucifur trailing behind him, and closed the door.

The clothes he handed him were all-black. Why? Was that what everyone was going to be wearing there? Seemed like a very specific preference for a place that is supposed to host a lot of different creatures. He just hoped people there spoke English like Jesse did. He was not ready for someone to shout something he couldn’t understand at him like what happened this morning.

Just when he was about to tell Jesse he was done changing, something rang in his ear. Not like angel radio, but not far off, either. He hissed and held onto the spot in the side of his head where this always happened. “ _ Jack. _ ”

Sam.

“ _ I don’t know if you can hear me,” _ Sam said in his head, “ _ But we’re worried about you. Please come home,”  _ he said, “ _ I know you’re scared. But we can work through this. Please. If you can hear me, come home. Or, _ ” he said, “ _ Call. Or e-mail. I know you know how. Please, Jack. _ ”

No.  _ No. _

He wasn’t ready. And he didn’t know if he would ever be. Definitely not today. Today he shut off everything. He went out. He saw a lot of ancient bones, which was more fun than he thought it would be. He hasn’t thought about Dean, or Sam, or Castiel, or Lenny the guard. And maybe that made him bad. Maybe that made him evil.

But just for tonight, he didn’t want to care.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love them both but I keep switching their names while writing lol Jesse and Jack and Jack and Jesse...  
Enjoy~

Jack’s good at imitating.

It’s what he’s done his entire life. He learned a lot, if not most, of his skills that way. Imitating was easy. Simple. All he had to do was copy what others are doing, what they were saying, what their general demeanor was. Most of the time that meant pushing his own instinct aside—if the people around him did it, it had to be for a reason. A good reason. After all, pretty much all of them have been alive way longer than he has. So he always followed.

Not this time.

Something nudged at him—_ do it. _Dance. Blend in the crowd. Ditch the bottle of beer you’re hanging onto for dear life and let yourself enjoy this like everyone clearly did. Let the girl in the sparkly skirt rest her arms on your shoulder like she did with that other girl. Let the guy with the fangs sticking out graze your neck like he did that werewolf. Move your body like it belonged to this mesh of people that almost looked like it was its own creature, breathing with the rhythm of the music.

But he froze in his place.

He never felt like he belonged. Anywhere, really. It was always a little forced. The last moment of peace he felt was probably when he was on the ground at that police station munching on nougat. But it’s never been as glaringly obvious as it was now. What was he even doing here? Those people, monsters or not, knew where they belonged. They knew what to do, what to say, how to be. He didn’t. They’d find him out in an instant. He’d be eaten alive in there.

_ Probably _not literally, but still.

It was safer on the outside. He could absolutely pretend beer didn’t taste exactly as urine smelled. The trick was to hold his breath, which worked out fine because he didn’t _ really _ need to breathe most of the time anyway. He could do this, for now. Just lean back on the bar and watch in fascination, gulping down his drink until he ran out and he was just moving an empty bottle to his lips for several minutes. Jesse disappeared into the crowd, didn’t force him to join in or even checked, really. Told him to just do his thing and went to, well, do his own thing.

“You okay there?”

He didn’t move until someone tapped him on the shoulder. A woman, about as old as his mother was or would’ve been. Her eyes didn’t glow, but he could see the sparkle of bright blue in them. The same way he saw demon’s true faces or angel wings. She smiled at him.

“You came in here with Jesse, right?”

“Yes.” He paused, then extended a hand. “I’m Jack.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Tamara. I run this place.”

“It’s very nice,” Jack said, “Lots of...colors.”

She laughed. “Yeah, you get used to it after a while.” He lifted his very empty beer bottle to his lips again. “You want another one?”

“Not really, if I’m being honest.”

“Another drink?”

He knew a grand total of two “drinks”. Beer and whiskey. The whiskey made _ Dean _flinch, so he wasn’t about to do that to himself. “Maybe not now.”

She nodded. “So where are you from?” she asked, “Your accent says Berlin, but I know Jesse enough to know you probably don’t even speak German.”

He frowned. “I don’t speak German…”

She rolled her eyes. “I knew it,” she said, “He does this every time.”

“Does what, exactly?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, really—”

“I single-handedly remove language barriers. You’re welcome,” Jesse said, emerging sweaty and a little breathless from the crowd. The people around him, who were latching onto his torso, faded into thin air. He motioned to the bartender. “Hey Lilly, can I get a Mojito?”

“You got it.”

“You make it so everyone understands each other,” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Jesse shrugged, “You think I know every language of every place I go to? No. Language is easy, people want to communicate a certain meaning. I just make sure it’s, you know, well-received.”

“Huh.”

“I still have to learn how to read, but, you know. There’s Google Translate for that.”

“_ Or,” _Tamara said, “You could enjoy the experience of communicating with people from all around the world. Trying to find the right words, learning expressions that capture meanings that can’t be directly translated to your language…”

“That’s just inefficient,” Jesse said, “Why do that, when you can pretty much speak a universal language?”

“Ah, I’m not having this conversation again,” Tamara said, “You got any appointments tonight?”

“Nope,” Jesse said, sipping his drink, “Got some tomorrow, though. Mostly consultations. You’d think having a fully removable tattoo would be an easy decision, but _ noo.” _

“It’s still a tattoo,” Tamara said, “And I’m also not sure everyone believes you can just remove a tattoo painlessly.”

Jesse grumbled something Jack couldn’t hear.

“You do tattoos?”

“Yup,” Jesse said, “Why, you want one?”

“I tried to get one once.” Well. Sam and Dean sort of talked him into it. “But they healed almost instantly.”

Jesse snickered. “Did you go to a regular artist?”

“...as opposed to what?”

“Oh man,” Jesse said, “You need to get your monster 101.”

“Did you turn recently?” Tamara asked.

“No.”

“What happened to you—” Jesse said, “it’s a common problem. Most monsters—” Someone who was grabbing their drink shot Jesse a dirty look. “I’m reclaiming the derogatory term. Get woke!” He turned to Jack. “Anyway. Most of us heal at a much higher rate than humans. Some of us are downright impossible to injure—which is what a tattoo is, essentially. So we have to use custom needles or ink. Or, you know.” He ran a hand through his damp hair. “Bend reality a little to allow it to set.”

“Oh,” Jack said, “I get it! For werewolves, for example, you’d use silver. For vampires—”

“Dead man’s blood.”

“Right. Angels—what, needles made out of angel blades?”

“Well, yeah,” Jesse said, “But those are very expensive. There’s maybe one studio that has one of those.”

“And,” Tamara said, “We don’t do angels, out of principle. Even if there were any around here,” she said, “No angels, no demons, nothing that can possess another body.”

Why, why—“Consent.”

“You’re catching on,” Jesse said, patting Jack’s back. “So if you want your tattoo still,” he said, “Just let me know. Pretty sure I can fit you in.”

“Would you look at that,” Tamara said, raising her eyebrows at Jesse, trying not to grin all the way.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, “How did you two meet again?”

“I didn’t tell you,” Jesse said, “Don’t you have work to do?”

She rested her arm on Jesse’s shoulder. He just downed the rest of his drink without looking at her. “Nope,” she said, “Got nothing better to do. So. Jack. Where are you staying?”

“Just in what world would that be an appropriate question.”

“I don’t actually know yet,” Jack said, “I only got here this morning.”

Jesse pushed Tamara’s arm away. “I have a couch.”

“...okay?”

Tamara laughed.

“You can stay on my couch,” Jesse said, “For a few days, or something.” Tamara opened her mouth to say something but before she could, Jesse said, “I swear, if you say anything—”

She shook her head. “Nothing from me.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Something made Jesse move a bit, then get his phone out of his pocket. He frowned at it for a while then started typing furiously, completely disengaged from the environment around him. Tamara reached out to take Jack’s empty bottle from him, ignoring Jesse completely. “You sure you don’t want anything else?”

“No, thank you. I think—”

“I have to go,” Jesse said, his face apologetic. He stuffed the phone back in his pants. “I’m sorry,” Jesse said, “I’ll be back later. You can, uh, go back to the apartment if you need to leave, but I shouldn’t be long.”

Jack frowned, but wasn’t sure if it was his place to ask what was up. “I’ll wait here.”

“Sure, whatever, I’ll see you guys later,” Jesse said. He got back into the crowd only to disappear. It wasn’t flying, Jack noticed, but close enough.

“That was rude,” Tamara said, “But that’s Jesse for you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad for the actual Antichrist, but still.”

“What did you just call him?”

“The—Oh shit,” she said, “I thought you knew. I mean, he never brings any friends around so I assumed—when he zapped—” She paused. “Nevermind. You should talk to him.”

The Antichrist.

_ Another _Antichrist.

—

Jesse was a city kid.

You’d think small towns offered some layer of isolation he’d want, but, man, big cities were the perfect balance between complete anonymity because no one gave a shit who you were and the availability of 5 _ Spätis _ within walking distance from any point on the map. Also a big fucking plus side: you could easily avoid finding yourself in a situation where you had to hike up a muddy trail between big ass trees on a chilly night.

Unless you responded to some online message to meet a stranger there, that is.

He wasn’t stupid, okay? He knew the risks that came with popping to different places within or near Berlin or Brandenburg based off a request from a complete stranger. But it wasn’t like he wasn’t prepared. He was yet to meet anyone nearly as powerful as he was. And worst come to worst, he could zap out of it. What he couldn’t do, on the other hand, was _ not _respond to those requests.

It was selfish work, but it was important work.

It didn’t take him long to reach the exact coordinates that were sent to him; zapping didn’t really directly integrate with the GPS on his phone. And_ of course_ it was a dimly lit cabin. Where else would a recently turned vampire hide out? An apartment, like an actual person? _No._

He knocked on the door. “Klaus?” Nothing. Not even a creek. Another knock. “Klaus? It’s me. From that chat room. You, uh, said to meet here.”

Something made the slightest noise inside, like someone was trying to be quiet.

Usually, at this point, Jesse would just leave. He came over to provide a service. Okay, so that wasn’t exactly true. Not always anyway. But close enough anyway—he didn’t _ have _to do it. He chose to. And he could similarly choose to leave. But this time, though, something didn’t feel right. The message that Klaus person sent him seemed urgent, desperate. He sent him the coordinates, so why wasn’t he answering the door?

The door itself was locked, so Jesse just zapped himself inside. It was just way more efficient than breaking shit or learning to pick locks. It was well-lit there, with nothing more than the minimal required furniture—a couch, a table, and a small kitchen. But no Klaus. No one, really. Nothing was out of its expected place, either.

Except. Well. The blood on the floor.

Jesse wasn’t big on weapons, but he pulled his pitchfork out of hiding. What? It was much more efficient than a knife for self defense. And he kind of lived for small pleasures. He held onto it and followed the blood trail out the back door. Great. Now he’s become that person that follows the blood trail instead of nope the fuck away from it.

He wouldn’t survive a B-rated horror movie, would he?

It was darker outside, but not impossible to see in. Not that far away from the door, cowered next to a tree, blood dripping out of his mouth, through his fangs and onto the ground was _ probably _ the vamp Jesse had come for. “Klaus?”

“Stay away.”

“...you called for me, dude.”

“What?”

“You’re Klaus, right?” Jesse asked, “Or at least that’s your username.”

“Yes.”

“How long ago were you turned?”

He glanced around him. “A—a few hours, I think.”

“And you’ve fed.”

“It happened so fast! I didn’t—”

“Hey, man,” Jesse said, “No judgement from me. Are they still alive? Should I call an ambulance?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where—”

“I _ don’t know!” _

“Okay,” Jesse said, tucking his pitchfork back in its place and holding his hands up instead. “Do you still want my help?”

“Wha—what—”

He’d seen this before. Especially with vampires. The first few hours, or days even, they’d be all over the place. They’d be in a haze, sort of. But he was collected enough to find Jesse’s honeypot chat room and specifically request he come there. So there must be some brains functioning inside there somewhere. “I’m Jesse,” he said, “We talked a bit earlier. You said you wanted me to help. Do you remember that?”

“Help?”

“...to turn back.” Something didn’t add up there. Something wasn’t right. But he wasn’t about to run away. Not now. “Were you turned against your will, or not?”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Okay,” Jesse said, “So I can turn you back. Would that be okay with you?” he asked, “Or would you rather, I dunno, move somewhere else? Because you can’t stay here, man.”

Klaus pulled on his hair a little and let himself fall on the grass. _ “I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t ask for this…” _

“Yeah, join the club, pal,” Jesse said, “Do you want to turn back—yes or no.”

“Yes.” He looked up at Jesse. _ “Yes.” _

“Okay.”

It took a bit of concentration. A bit of focus. This type of thing didn’t come as naturally to Jesse as things concerning his power usually did. It was a long-term thing, no turning back. He wasn’t technically turning Klaus back human. He couldn’t, not after he fed. But he could alter reality enough for him to check all the boxes anyway. Human food would be good enough for him. His fangs would be essentially gone. He wouldn’t be connected to the Alpha vampire, if he was still around. And his senses would be dulled down to those of an average human.

And he wouldn’t be able to “turn back” into a vampire.

They’d grill him for that sort of thing in the community, but there was a lot of hypocrisy there anyway; they couldn’t preach consent and have a holier-than-thou attitude while still turning unsuspecting people while giving them no proper support or even asking their permission first. Fuck that. Some of the rhetoric bordered on supremacy, and the half-demon, half-human who had been hunted his entire life by people with the exact same mentality, he wouldn’t stand for it.

And, well, the city’s safer for it.

“How—”

“You should leave,” Jesse said, “Disappear for a while. Especially if the vamps who turned you know where you live.” Pause. “You know where to go from here?”

He nodded.

“Cool. Ciao.”

—

“Short-ish guy?” Paulo asked, “Brown hair? Golden eyes?”

_ Golden— _oh fuck. “What did you do to him?”

“What—nothing!” Paulo said, sinking into his seat. “I promise! It looked like he was having a really good time out there! I think he busted a few lights, too.”

“So where is he?”

“What’s this guy’s deal?” Paulo asked, “You _ never _bring anyone around. Ever.”

“So?”

“So what makes him special?”

“He’s not!”

“Bull. Shit.”

“Do you think I’m, what, dating him?”

“That was _ my _guess, actually,” Lilly said from behind them. She’d taken her break apparently.

“Nah,” Paulo said, “There’s something else going on there.”

“How is it _ anyone’s _business what goes on in my personal life?” Jesse said, “Jesus. Get a hobby.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Lilly said, “We’re just curious. You never talk about, you know, this sort of stuff—”

“And maybe there’s a good reason for that,” Jesse said, “Look. He’s just never been anywhere like this. I wanted to show him what it’s like to, you know, co-exist, or whatever,” he said, “But if you’re gonna grill me because I have a _ friend _ now—”

“So you’re _ friends—” _

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“We’re just messing with you,” Paulo said, “Unclench for once in your life, dude.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, “Is he still here?”

“Not sure,” Paulo said, “Tamara gave him the full tour, so he might be in one of the rooms in the back.”

The same dude who wouldn’t even step into the dance floor earlier? “Don’t think so,” Jesse said, “He might’ve just left.”

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he hoped he was back home, at his apartment. Maybe he didn’t fully intend on bringing him, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he would do or want to do, but for some reason he felt uneasy with the thought of Jack just vanishing from his life. He hated it, to an extent, because it reminded him of things that happened way too many times for his comfort. Of people he wanted around and either had to leave them or had to watch them leave.

But he also liked it. It made him feel almost human.

“I’m gonna go,” Jesse said, “See you tomorrow.”

“Are you serious?” Lilly said, “It’s like, what, ten?” she said, “On a _ Friday night.” _

_ “Bye, Lilly.” _

Before she could say anything, he’d zapped himself home. It was just easier sometimes. He still liked to walk, or take a train or a tram or whatever. But when he wanted efficiency, this was as easy as breathing. “Jack?”

No one was there. It was a small enough place that it didn’t take a minute for Jesse to confirm that. Even Lucifur was sound asleep. Did he leave, then? Go somewhere else? Maybe. It would suck, but it was understandable; it was a cool trip halfway across the world, he bet, but he might’ve just wanted to go home. _ His home. _Even if that home had two hunters and an angel that were in Jesse’s opinion just plain taking advantage of him.

And he would’ve left it at that. He really would’ve.

Except he was still on edge. Maybe it was residue from earlier, but he’s been alive long enough to trust his instinct on things. And maybe it was a false alarm. Maybe it was his human side not wanting to let go of the idea of Jack actually wanting to stay. Or maybe it was weird connection he had with the nephilim.

No. No, that was crazy. He had to recognize that.

He was weird with human connections, for lack of a better term. It just did not compute for him the same way other things did. He could create an entire pocket universe on a good (or simply high) day, but he always felt weird around people he could potentially care about. It turned a crazy switch in his head, and he didn’t know how to stop it. It’s part of the reason most of the people he dances with or sometimes goes out with are more or less his own creatures.

There were just too many variables he couldn’t control otherwise.

And it tugged on his insecurities. This. This is why he doesn’t do spontaneous shit. He turned downright obsessive at the slightest chance of normal. He took a deep breath—okay, whatever. He’s an adult. He can control himself. He could just change into something comfortable and forget about Jack for a while. If he wants to find him, he will. He knew where he lived, where he worked.

He managed to hold onto that thought for a solid half an hour. Then Jack flew in.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Jesse propped himself up on his bed. Jack was fidgeting, tugging on the edges of his short sleeves. His eyes weren’t outright golden, but sparkly enough to denote distress. Even his wings were all over the place. “Are you okay?”

“I was with someone.”

“Oh. Okay?”

“We were in one of the rooms at the—the club.”

“I see.”

“I might’ve scared her away.”

“Was she...hurt?”

“No,” Jack said, “No, of course not. I just.”

“What?”

“Something happened,” he said, “When you were gone. I felt something.”

“You felt something.”

“I don’t know what it was,” he said, “Like a weird taste in my mouth.”

Weird taste. “Did you feel like someone was calling for you? Like you should go somewhere?”

“No. Why?”

“Could be a summoning spell,” he said, “They never work with me, but I can taste them.”

“I think it might’ve been you, actually.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” he said, “I don’t know why. Are _ you _ okay?”

Jesse blinked. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

The mattress dipped with Jack’s weight on the corner. “Dude. You don’t look good.”

“I’m just tired.”

He moved next to him. “It’s the girl, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jack admitted, “And no. We were having fun, but I scared her. I didn’t mean to,” he said, “But that’s the problem. Things keep happening without me meaning for them to happen.”

Jesse sighed. “I know what you mean.”

“I don’t think you do,” Jack said, “You seem completely in control. You can just use your powers whenever you want, however you want.” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t even think I know _ how,” _he said, “In the beginning, I could. I just.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what happened.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you this happened to me, too?”

“It did?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, “But not—I didn’t stop knowing how to control my power,” he admitted, “But I forgot about it for a while. I wasn’t in control at all. And it was so subtle, too. Even I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“What happened?”

“Oh man,” Jesse said, “What _ didn’t _happen?” He licked his lips. “It just. It hasn’t been easy, is what I’m saying. But I’m okay now.” To a passable extent. “I think you could be, too.”

“Did it have something to do with heaven? Hell?” Jack pressed. “You’re—you’re like me.”

“Like you?”

“Destined to destroy the world, I guess.”

Jesse laughed. “No,” he said, “Nothing on a global scale. Not yet, anyway. You let me know if you have plans. I might actually tag along this time.”

“I don’t have plans to...destroy the world, no,” Jack said, “So what was it then, if not this?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I do.”

Jesse held up his hands and motioned for Jack to bring his head closer, between them. He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Okay then,” he said, “I’ll show you.”


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added warnings/tagged to the story.
> 
> Enjoy, and let me know what you think!~

** _Four years ago_ **

_ Sizzle. _

“You know that’s way too hot and greasy for pancakes, right?”

Jesse scoffed, pouring the scoop of batter right in the middle of the brownish pool of butter in the pan.  _ Too hot and greasy.  _ Counterpoints: everyone in this house was between 16 and 18 years old, one of them a literal demigod, the other two, other than Jesse, would probably sooner die of a nuclear apocalypse than heart disease. Even then, the odds were not completely stacked against them.

Plus, it’s not like anyone ever complained about his cooking.

“You love it.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but smiled, walking past him to get some milk from the fridge and drink it straight out of the carton. Jesse flipped the pancake which was admittedly a  _ tad  _ too brownish and watched as the rest of the house started emerging from their rooms, yawning and generally dragging their feet on the cold tiles.

One of them opened the doors and let the chill, humid breeze from the shore hit everyone else. Some groaned. But Jesse was secretly waiting for this all morning. “Breakfast is  _ almost  _ ready,” he announced, “And then we can go to the beach.”

“Perfect!” Anna said, pulling him by the shoulder a little to kiss his cheek. “I love spending the whole summer here,” she said, “Just chilling by the beach.”

Jesse grinned. “Yeah,” he said, “It’s awesome. Hey do you wanna—”

“Help set the table?” she suggested, “Already on it.”

“I swear,” Jesse said, “It’s like you read my mind sometimes.”

“Hm.”

He finished the one batch of pancakes—they weren’t super popular anyway, being completely human food and all—and called everyone to the table. It was just perfect, everything was. If only he knew his life would turn out so amazing back then, when he left. He’s surrounded by friends: kids like him that were estranged from their families for one reason or another, living in their own property directly on the shore. He had his own art room and everything.

“So Jesse,” Anna said, “We—I brought you something.”

He looked up at her, his face stuffed. “Hm?”

She pulled a small box out of her pocket and slid it over to him. “Happy birthday! Open it!”

He cleaned his hands on his shorts and opened the box. A small bracelet. Silver, by the looks of it. Instead of tiny loops, it was tiny letters. Too tiny for him to distinguish, actually; the more he tried to look at it the blurrier it got. Maybe he needs to get glasses. “It’s awesome. Thank you guys so much!”

“You’re welcome.”

Everyone fell into comfortable silence again, the only sound being the clicking and clacking of cutlery. Until Nick cleared his throat. “So,” he said, “Do you have any plans for us today?”

“Nah,” Jesse said, “Nothing special. I still have to finish those drafts if I’m going to apply for that internship.”

“Yeah, sure,” Anna said, “But you can work on those  _ any other day, _ right?”

“I suppose.”

“What do you think about a night out?” Nick suggested, “Say, in Berlin?”

Berlin—they talked about it recently, for some reason. What was it? “No way,” Jesse said, “That club? From that internet forum thing?”

“Yeah,” Nick said, shrugging, “Why not?”

“We don’t know if it actually exists, for one.”

“We call—” Xan started.

“If it doesn’t exist,” Nick said, “We can still spend the night in Berlin. Isn’t there supposed to be a huge art scene there, or something?”

Jesse grinned. “Yes!” he said, “That would be so awesome!”

Anna’s shoulders relaxed a bit. Nick smiled. “Great,” he said, “We can be ready in an hour or so. Should be ten-ish PM there. What do you say?”

“Yeah!” he said, “Yeah, I can be ready. Is everyone okay with going or do you prefer we do something else?”

“We’re all on board,” Nick said.

It was going to be  _ epic.  _ Jesse wasn’t a huge birthday person, but it still felt like his 16th would be a bit of a milestone. So much so, he was thinking of leaving in a few days to the US. He just hadn’t had the nerve to tell his friends yet; he wanted to go visit his parents. The Turners. He had no idea how it would turn out. It could be a huge mistake. But it had been about a couple of years since he was hunted by demons, and his power just wasn’t the same with Lucifer in the cage again. So he could actually go back this time.

A send-off in Berlin, in one of the coolest places he’d ever heard of, would not be half bad, actually. Even if they didn’t know yet.

“You could wear the bracelet,” Xan suggested.

Anna breathed a laugh. “Oh no,” she said, grabbing the box, “When we get there.”

“But—”

“Xan, can I talk to you for a minute?” Nick said, eyes on Jesse,  _ “Outside?” _

—

Trips around the world were  _ exhausting. _

It was still better than flying, you know, with an actual plane. But Jesse wasn’t the cambion he once was; the longer the trip was, the more people he had to “carry”, the harder it was for him. He needed to catch his breath for a minute. And damn was it colder than he expected there, even in March.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Just give me a minute.”

“Alright, I’mma just go see if I can get some WiFi around here,” Nick said, “But we should be close. Xan, why don’t you come with me?”

Jesse and Anna found a bench and threw their bodies on it. It was dark, which was disorienting in and of itself, but it was still nice. Not too quiet either; people were still biking around them. He thought about telling her the. About his trip. Ask her if she’d come with him. She was his best friend, after all, and if there was one person he would actually want his parents to meet, it would be her. But he’s too chicken for that. He knew it, and she probably did, too.

“There’s something you want to tell me,” she said.

“What? No. Why would you say that?”

She shrugged. “I can tell.”

He fiddled with the edge of his shirt. “Well,” he said, “Maybe.”

“What is it?”

“This should probably wait…”

“No,” she said, “I want to know. Please?”

“Okay,” he said, “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“I wanna go back to my parents,” he said, “I can pass as human now. Completely. Lucifer probably won’t be out again in this lifetime,” he said, “And if he does, I could probably protect them this time.” He paused. “I miss them, Anna. So much.”

“Oh.”

“They’re really great people, too,” he said, “I mean. I don’t know what my going back would do. But they’d probably be happy, right?” he said, “I dunno. I’m so nervous.”

“Would you move back there?”

“Maybe?” he said, “I mean, I’m so used to living on my own now, the dynamic is probably going to be a little weird. But I could move close enough to them to visit, see them, stuff like this.”

“You could do that from anywhere in the world.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, “But I kinda miss it. The whole town, everything.”

“I see,” she said, “And would we move with you, too?”

He blinked. “I didn’t think you would—not everyone. I mean. No one. It would be nice if you tagged along, you know. In the beginning. But I figure everyone has different plans, you know?”

“And you would be okay with that?”

“Okay with what, exactly?”

“People having different plans,” she said, “Moving...away.”

“It’s not really my place, is it?” he said, “I mean, I would love it if I get to stay with you guys forever, but it’s not really my call.”

She smiled.

“So what do you say? About—”

“I found it!” Nick called from afar, “It’s a fifteen minute walk.”

“Fifteen?” Jesse said, “Wow. Sorry,” he said, “I thought I got it much closer than that.”

Nick patted his back. “No problem,” he said, “I’ll lead the way.”

—

It was a coffee shop.

Or at least, it looked like one. They had a few small tables inside and what looked like one person working the counter. Nick insisted they were at the right place, though, and led the four of them in. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“We’re here for, uh, the Spring Festival.”

The person at the counter raised an eyebrow. “Oh are you now?” she said, “What are you, 12?”

“No one is underage.”

“Aha. Do you have any IDs?”

Jesse started reaching into his pocket but Nick raised a hand. “Paulo referred me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course he did,” she mumbled, pushing a buzzer. “Hey, Tamara, could you come up here for a minute?”

A few seconds later, a woman, who later turned out to be the owner, emerged from a well-hidden door. It almost looked real. Almost. But Jesse could still tell. “Ah, you must be Nick.”

“I am.”

“Okay, here’s the deal,” she said, “You’re all over 16, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If you want alcohol you can get beer or wine at the bar,” she said, “Nothing else. You’ll be limited to one of our rooms in the back. If I see you anywhere else, you  _ will  _ be kicked out.”

“No worries,” Nick promised, “We’ll be good.”

“I’m not worried about you being good,” Tamara scoffed, “We have a higher age limit for a reason. It’s for your safety. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” he said, “Thank you.”

They followed her inside. Jesse wasn’t entirely sure what the fun was supposed to be if they were going to be in a room by themselves the entire time, but he wasn’t complaining. He still got to see what the fuss was all about on the way. And, boy. _ Boy _ was he in for something. He had imagined. He had read about it online. But he’d never seen it before.

Holy shit.

His whole life he was worried about whether or not he passed as human. Whether or not people would find out what he and his friends were. How to hide from hunters, or just plain mean people at the schools he tried to attend at one point. And people here just didn’t give a shit. He could count on one hand the different species he saw in a three-minute span that he actually recognized.

No one was panicking. No one was hurting. No one was hiding.

It was pretty much like the first time he internalized the fact that he could actually just eat from an ice cream tub by the spoon. His life just wouldn’t be the same after that night, he knew. Anna had to practically drag him by the arm to the room they were supposed to stay in.

And you know what? Even the room wasn’t that bad.

They could still see the rest of the club, they just couldn’t see them back. There was no one else there, but they could still hear the music. They could still dance, if they wanted, and—

“Why don’t you sit?”

Jesse stopped staring enough to notice Nick handing him a drink. A beer. Cool. He took it, and sat on one of the high chairs they had spread around. “This place is amazing,” he breathed. No one heard him over the music, probably. Xan pushed the door closed and the music was muted a bit. Not too much, but enough for voice to be heard. “Thanks!”

After Jesse had taken a few sips, Anna brought out the box she had with her. “Why don’t you put it on now?”

He put the beer down on the glass shelf next to him and held out his wrist. “Can you help me?” She nodded. It turned out to be one of those with a magnetic end, so it wasn’t actually that hard to put on.

But it did feel like someone cut off his oxygen all of a sudden.

He could still breathe, he thought. Technically, he could. He wasn’t running out of air, but it felt like this huge weight on his chest. His gasps for air weren’t for his actual breathing, but it was like his body didn’t know how else to react. He held onto the shelf for balance, but ended up tripping out of his seat and stumbling his way down, the only thing stopping him from falling down was his hand on the stool.

None of them moved.

What the hell was going on? Why did his body feel like it was being drained? Why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Couldn’t they see him? Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe he was tripping or something. Maybe there was just something in the air, or—

“Oh calm down,” Nick said, “You’re fine. This is what it feels like to not have any powers.”

“Wh—what—”

“The bracelet,” Nick said, “And the drink. And the spell they have in this specific room. All together,” he explained. “Fucking finally.”

“Nick.”

“No, Anna, he should know,” he said, “I didn’t spend the last two years of my life with this  _ asshole _ only to shut up now.”

Jesse didn’t know what to say, or how to react. He’d never felt like this before. Nick had never been angry with him. He’d never called him an asshole or something even close to it. The pain was starting to subside, but his heart was beating too fast in his chest and he wasn’t sure he was actually able to move. He must be dreaming or this is just an elaborate prank of some sort.

“This isn’t funny.”

“No,” Nick said, “It’s not. Nothing about this is _ fucking funny.” _

“Nick, please,” Anna said, “Let’s just go.”

“What’s going on?” Jesse asked, “What the hell? What is this?”

“This is us finally having a say in our lives, you asshole.”

“What? I—”

“No, you don’t get to speak,” Nick said, “God, I’m tired of hearing your stupid fucking voice! Every morning. All day. Even in my head! All I hear is Jesse wants this, Jesse wants that, we have to be there for Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse.”

“Anna—”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

It wasn’t until then that it finally dawned on him that it wasn’t a prank. That his friends were binding his powers and that they hated him, for some reason. He just didn’t get  _ why _ —what was he even talking about? He didn’t talk that much, did he? And if they had a problem, why are they only telling him now? Why are they binding his powers?

“Nick, I don’t think he knows.”

“Bullshit,” he said, “There’s no fucking way he doesn’t know.”

“I really don’t think he does,” Anna said, “Just today, he told me—”

“Don’t you  _ get it?” _ Nick said, “Everything he says is a fucking lie! Everything you hear in your head is just him manipulating you—manipulating  _ us— _ so he gets whatever he wants!”

Jesse could somehow physically feel the blood rushing away from his face to fuck-knows-where. “That’s—why—”

“Jesse, your power—”

“No.  _ No. Not his power!”  _ Nick said, “I don’t know if you have Stockholm Syndrome or  _ what  _ the fuck is wrong with you, but he’s the fucking Antichrist,” he said, “ _ He  _ manipulated us.  _ He  _ made it so we could never say no to him.  _ He  _ forced us to live with him, to live our lives the way  _ he  _ wanted.  _ He  _ is a fucking monster. Not his power.  _ Him.” _

Jesse’s eyes stung and he felt his throat close up. “I never—I swear—I don’t know why you’re saying this, but—”

Nick grabbed Xan’s backpack and pulled out a thin, silver blade. “Stop fucking talking!”

“Nick. No,” Anna said, “I never agreed to this—”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said, “He won’t stay powerless for long. Asshole is like a cockroach that can fucking fly, I’m not risking it,” he said, “He’s going to find us again.”

“He’s not going to if we tell him to stay away,” Anna reasoned, “Nick. We never said no.”

“Oh so it’s our fault?”

“No,” she said, “It’s not. But he never knew—”

“ _ He knew!”  _ Nick insisted, his face darkening with rage, “I know he did!”

“Jesse,” Anna said, as calmly as she could, “If we leave now, are you going to follow us?”

His lips were shaking, but he could gather a small “No.”

“See?” Anna said, “Let’s go.”

“If you want to go,” Nick said, “No one’s stopping you.  _ Finally.” _

“Yeah, Anna,” Xan said, “If you want to go, go.”

She turned to Jesse, who still couldn’t gather a coherent thought. She was his best friend. He’d known her for so long. _ So long.  _ And if what Nick is saying—if he did force them to be his friends somehow—did that mean that all those years—“I’m sorry,” she said.

Sorry.

She looked at the ground and left, and it didn’t take long for Nick to use his entire upper body strength to push the blade through Jesse’s chest, pulled it back out, took Xan and ran. It felt like a gigantic punch, and he couldn’t keep standing any longer. This made the binding feel like a piece of cake. His shirt was getting wet, he noticed, but his mind was stuck on the absurdity of it all.

His friends just stabbed him. Stabbed to fucking kill.

No. Not his friends. His pretend friends. The people he apparently forced into being his friends somehow. How? Why?  _ Why?  _ He was fine that morning. He was fine ten fucking minutes ago. Everything was fine. Now? Now he didn’t even feel like screaming. He felt like maybe the pain, maybe the way his entire body felt hot and he was throwing up his entire breakfast on the floor, was deserved.

This has to be a dream. This cannot be happening.

But he wouldn’t wake up. In fact, he was falling under with every passing second. Someone came in then—this Tamara person. “Hey. Hey, stay with me. What are you?”

“Long—” He coughed up more of his food. “—story.”

“Okay, I’m going to—” She picked up his wrist and sighed. “Of course.” She pulled the bracelet off and all the physical pain dulled significantly. She pulled him out of the room, just a bit, with someone else’s help, and he felt like he could breathe again. She checked under his shirt and breathed a sigh of relief. “What  _ happened?” _

He didn’t know her. She was this random woman, in a country he’d never been in his life, who’d just very luckily managed to save his life. But all he could do at that moment was pull his forearms to his face and cry. It didn’t matter that she was there, or that she called for someone else to help her. It didn’t matter that there was music blaring and people having a good time a couple of stairs away. The only thing that gave him a sliver of comfort were the sobs echoing through his worn body.

“It’s okay,” she said, “You’ll be okay.”

——

** _Now_ **

Jack held Jesse’s shaking hands in his. He’d dropped his fingers from his temples a while ago, but it didn’t stop Jesse’s memories from flooding Jack. Jesse wasn’t crying; his eyes were completely shut off, like he wasn’t even looking at Jack even though he should be in his line of vision. But Jack hadn’t felt this much at once in a while, and it took him a second to collect himself.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I have a better handle on it,” Jesse said, pulling his hands and scooting away a little. “I’ve worked on it since then. Alone. With Tamara. With my therapist.”

“Have you spoken to them again?”

“Fuck no,” he said, “I think they think I died, or something. Either way, it wouldn’t do any of us any good.”

“And your parents?” Jack asked, “Did you ever go back?”

Jesse’s smile was void of happiness. Almost sarcastic. “You mean the two people I probably somehow forced to adopt me as a kid?”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Why not, huh?” he said, “I had no control over it. Anything I wanted became true,” he said, “My friends probably only noticed because they weren’t human. My mom and dad—they didn’t stand a chance.” He took a deep breath. “Listen. I’ve been through this a million times those past four years. It’s old news.”

“Well.”

“What?”

“You can’t force me to be your friend.”

Jesse flinched. “I’m not trying to.”

“No,” Jack said, “I mean, you  _ can’t. _ Not even if you tried.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he said, “Your power is linked to mine, somehow. I know that,” he said, “But it’s a balance. I can feel it,” he said, “It’s not more. It’s not less. One doesn’t overpower the other.”

“...this is a special brand of bullshit. What are you, fucking Yoda now?”

“I’m not Yoda,” Jack said, “My sentences are in the normal order.”

Jesse snickered.

“I want to stay.”

“Stay?”

“Doesn’t have to be…here, specifically,” Jack said, “But you’re right. I like it here. And I want you to teach me how you did it—control your power, I mean. So I can control mine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“Alright.”

“Tomorrow you’re going to be at the studio, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I take you up on your offer?” he asked, “To get my tattoo?”

“Okay.”

“And then we find out who’s trying to find you.”

“Wait— _ what?” _


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find out a lot about myself through writing. And what I found out while writing this chapter is that I am indeed a bit of an asshole as a person.  
Enjoy~

“I’m sorry, are you saying your father is  _ Bill Clinton?” _

Jesse had been pretty accepting of everything Jack had told him so far. There was no reason for Jack to assume he would be weirded out if he told him that  _ no,  _ the person Lucifer was possessing when he was conceived  _ wasn’t  _ the US president from 1993 to 2001 (he had to look that up real quick) but actually the president elected in 2016, Jefferson Rooney. He wasn’t  _ currently  _ president, though. That was Donald Trump. Jack wasn’t sure what happened in the few months his mother was pregnant. Might have had something to do with the devil possessing him.

“No, I’m sorry,” Jesse said, laughing and holding his coffee cup up, “You don’t get to go silent on me again. Your biological human father is Bill fucking Clinton?”

But, see. Even if Jesse had been great so far, there was no telling what could change if he told him that he was technically only a few months old. He and everyone around him at work made such a big deal about age regardless of appearance (what with the room specifically for 16-18 year olds regardless of species or power and all) that he was worried he’d start treating him like a kid. He enjoyed talking to someone who saw him as an equal. It was very much less stressful than the alternative. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

Jesse laughed. “Man,” he breathed, “Where have you been all my life?”

“Good  _ morning,” _ someone in a ragged gray t-shirt and jeans so tight Jack felt second-hand discomfort said, walking towards both of them at their spot in front of the club’s front door’s front door, “If it isn’t my favorite villain.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Paulo, this is Jack,” Jesse said, “Jack, Paulo.”

Jack extended his hand. “Nice to meet you!”

Paulo raised his eyebrows and stared at Jack’s hand before shaking it, looking at Jesse the whole time. “See?” he said, “Finally some fucking manners.”

“Well, he did just meet you.”

_ “Ouch.”  _ Paulo somehow managed to stuff his hands in his pockets. “So. What are you?”

Jesse’s face fell into a solid state of what Jack could only describe as  _ not-this-again. _ “Oh my god, Paulo,” he said in fake disbelief, “You can’t just ask someone what they are!”

“Ah, okay, so that’s how you wanna play it,” he said, “Sure.”

Jack wasn’t really sure what to say. “Do you also work here?”

“Yup,” Paulo said, “I’m head of HR.”

“HR?”

“Human Resources,” Jesse said, “So. Food.”

“And DJs.”

“Pretty much.”

“You provide humans…as food?”

“Yes and no,” Paulo said, “We sort of have a don’t ask don’t tell policy when it comes to people  _ with certain tastes  _ if you catch my drift,” he said, “I get donated blood, organs from non-organ donors, you know.”

“Non-organ donors.”

“It’s just wasteful to let them rot,” Paulo said, “And with a few spells here and there it’s almost indistinguishable from the real thing.”

“Interesting,” Jack said,  _ “And _ a little disgusting.”

“Ah,” he said, “So you don’t have a taste for—”

“Man, do you have any real purpose for the personal data you’re gathering?” Jesse asked, “Or do I have to report you for a GDPR violation?”

“That’s not—” Paulo sighed, “You’re so fucking anti-social.”

“Hm,” Jesse said, “No. I’m pretty sure it’s just personal.”

“Die in a fire,” Paulo said, pushing the door in. “Nice to meet you, Jack!”

Jack watched as he disappeared inside. “Is he evil?”

“Who, Paulo?” Jesse said, “Nah. He’s just a total pain in the ass.”

“But you don’t hate him.”

“He’s my best friend!” At Jack’s face, Jesse relented, “Okay, so maybe not my  _ best  _ friend. But he’s alright. I just like to tease him.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you sure he knows that?” he asked, “If he doesn’t, he could have something to do with the spell I detect on you.”

“I trust people here with my life, you have no idea,” Jesse said, “Besides, didn’t you say it felt like a locator spell? Why does he need to locate me? I’m right here,” he said, “Consistently so. And also on Twitter.”

Jack sighed. “Well, you don’t have any other known enemies.”

“None that know my name but not where I am.” The spell was Enochian, with some other factors in there Jack couldn’t quite feel so clearly, even with the open connection with Jesse. But it solely centered his name. Jesse. Nothing else. “I think.”

“Could it be a friendly spell?”

“Friendly?”

“Someone like Anna—”

“Don’t,” Jesse said. “Just. Don’t. I didn’t show you this shit so you could bring it up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, “Just leave it alone. If Anna thought I was alive and wanted to find me, there are a million other things she would do before casting a spell. Trust me.”

“Okay.”

“And, you know what?” Jesse said, “Let’s just leave it alone. Fine. Someone’s looking for me. Boo fucking hoo. Welcome to my life,” he said, “It’ll be fine.”

But Jack didn’t want to let go of it just yet. It felt like something he could help with. Finally. He could use the hunting skills he acquired from his time with Sam and Dean and do something to help Jesse. Something  _ good.  _ Something that put his powers to good use. He could detect that spell, couldn’t he? He must be able to do something about it. From his experience, if someone wanted to find you, it was bad news. They either wanted to kill you, kidnap you, or otherwise use you.

But then again, his entire worldview seems to be getting challenged every day. Maybe he shouldn’t be so sure.

Jesse checked the time on his phone. “Welp,” he said, “Time for my first consultation. You got any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, “Boat tour, maybe? It might be a little too late for that, but I think I have some cash…”

“No, I think I’ll come in,” he said, “It’s open, right?”

“Ha ha,” Jesse said, pushing the door. Jack started to follow him. “Oh god, you’re serious.”

“I am.”

“Well at least wait for Lilly,” he said, “Or get some booze or something.”

—

“No, that’s not it…”

Jesse tore what must’ve been the tenth paper at this point, crushed it in his palm, and pushed it aside. He sighed and tried to summon the last speck of patience in his system. “Dude,” he told the client, “I can’t read minds. You’re going to have to work with me here.”

“I don’t know how to describe it!” he argued, “I want it to be magical, like when you look at it, it makes you feel like you’re looking at this ambiguous, mysterious thing.”

“Aha.”

“It should also have some sort of reference to planets.”

“Okay.”

“But it must not contain any.”

Jesse slid in his seat. “Sure.”

“I also want it to be functional.”

“Functional.”

“Yeah,” he said, “You do those, right? Protection sigils, stuff like that?”

“Sure,” Jesse said, “What do you want to be protected from?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “Pick one and make it work with the rest of the design.”

Having some sort of a moral code was really getting on Jesse’s nerves right about now. He could draw a straight line on this dude’s arm and just make him see it as whatever the fuck he wants it to be, but  _ no,  _ he had to have stupid rules.  _ Oh, my art has to have integrity! My work is a reflection of who I am! I love the feeling of giving someone a tattoo they really want and having the chance to use their bodies as my canvas! _

Fuck. Him.

“Tell you what,” Jesse said, “Why don’t you leave your email—I have some notes from everything you said today—I’ll work on something and get back to you.”

“That works,” he said, “Can I also have your email in case I want to send in anything else I think of?”

No. “Sure.”

“Great!” he said, standing up, “Thank you so much for your time!”

“Sure,” Jesse said, basically ushering him out of the room, “Don’t forget to leave your deposit at the bar upfront!”

As soon as he opened the door, he found Tamara standing on the other side. She let herself in after the client made his way out. “What’s up with your face?”

“It’s been a long day,” Jesse said, “What’s up?”

Tamara glanced behind her and closed the door. “You and I need to talk.”

“About?”

“Jack.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “If—”

“Is he the person you saw?” she asked, “A while ago. Is he the reason you had me dig into your head for answers?”

_ “Try _ to dig into my head.”

“Jesse.”

“Yes,” he said, “Yes, okay? So what?”

“So are you being careful?”

“About  _ what?” _

“He has some control over you,” she said, “A lot, judging by what happened in the  _ U-Bahn.  _ And now he’s here.”

“I brought him here.”

“Willingly?”

Jesse crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes,” he said, “Of course. What do you  _ think _ happened?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “You tell me.”

“You think I forced him to come here?”

She frowned. “No,” she breathed, “I’m worried he might’ve forced  _ you.  _ Somehow,” she said, “Or he’s taking advantage of you in some way…”

“Okay,” Jesse said, “Now you’re just being weird.”

“I’m being weird?” she said, “You have been a complete loner for  _ four years _ and now suddenly this guy pops into your life and he’s living with you?”

“He’s staying on my couch,” Jesse said, “Big difference. Just crashing in my place for a little bit.”

“You brought him to work,” she said, “He’s been hanging around here pretty much all day.”

“So what?”

“So it’s fucking weird, that’s what.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Kid,” she said, “This has so many red flags—you have to at least try and see it from my perspective.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said, uncrossing his arms, “It’s a weird situation. I’ll give you that. But.”

“But?”

“It’s fine,” he said, “It’s weird, but it’s fine. I’m managing.”

Just then, someone knocked on the door. “Come in.”

“Your next appointment is here.”

Jesse’s phone buzzed in his pocket. “I thought this was the last one today.” He checked his messages. Two days in a row? That was a first. Yesterday, that vampire Klaus. Today, a werewolf. Was his chat room shared somewhere or something?

“Nope. Still one more.”

He did a quick search. If the appointment doesn’t take too long, he  _ might  _ just be able to make it there before sunset. “Fine. Let them in.”

—

_ “Jack, Jack, Jack…” _

Jack wasn’t completely oblivious to his powers; he knew, like angels, he had the ability to receive prayers. What he didn’t instinctively know, however, was how much of a pain it would be to have some demon chant your own name in your head over and over again. Asmodeus was exhausting the last drop of patience in Jack’s system, and it was only getting worse over time. If it wasn’t just majorly inconvenient in every single way, he would’ve gone down to hell specifically to shut him up.

But he knew better than that. For now.

He could tune him out to some extent. It was easier than tuning out Sam, or Dean, or even Castiel, who was pretty much impossible to shut off. Sam was pleading; he was worried, he wanted Jack to come home, he wanted to make sure he was okay. Dean was just angry. His words might’ve been very carefully chosen, but that layer of anger was very thinly veiled.

But, Castiel?

Castiel was heartbroken. He was desperate. He reached out to him constantly, day or night. So much so, that it was a miracle Jack was able to multitask and simply breathe or talk or even pet Lucifur, who was admittedly growing on him. Explicitly not thinking about someone becomes harder and harder when they’re always present in your head. Why can angels pray, anyway? That was stupid. Definitely a design flaw.

Jack knew he couldn’t face him yet. How could he respond to Castiel, anyway? He can’t go back. Not now. Not yet. Not until he’s more put together. Until he figures himself out. Until he’s in complete control; at least, if he knows he’s calling all the shots consciously, he could take more ownership of what happens. At least if he hurts someone then, he’d know for sure he was evil, and maybe try to move on from there.

“You. The new one.”

Jack looked up. He was sitting in a circle, with maybe twelve or thirteen others. Jesse had a long day of work, longer than he thought he would be able to keep himself busy at an almost empty club, so he found what is called a support group taking place at the same day not too far away in one of the flyers they keep around. A support group for people like him. Maybe not other Antichrists, but people who weren’t human, and were concerned about what they might do or what they’ve already done.

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” the leader said, a kind smile on his face, “Do you want to introduce yourself?”

“Not really.”

“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. Not even your name,” the leader said, and the general hums in the room agreed, “Just tell us who you are, in your own words.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Maybe start with what just happened now?” the leader suggested, “Kate was sharing, and it looked like it struck a chord with you.”

Honestly, he had no idea what this Kate person was saying. But that was a rude thing to admit. He just shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“Okay then,” the leader said, “Maybe we start a little simpler. How did you find out about this group?”

“From a flyer.”

“And what called out to you in that flyer?” he asked, “What did you relate to?”

“I don’t know if I’m inherently evil.” He pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket. “I know it doesn’t say that, specifically. But I am—” He pointed to a section in the flyer.  _ “—worried things that come naturally to me may be harming others.” _

“Fair enough,” the leader said, “But that’s more of an ongoing struggle, isn’t it? Good or evil—it’s one of those big, existential questions we might not necessarily get the answer to now, or ever, really.” A few people hummed in agreement. “What brought you here  _ today?” _

“Something happened,” Jack said, his head going a hundred miles an hour trying to formulate the right words, “I hurt someone. I didn’t mean to,” he said, “But at the time, it felt like I couldn’t do anything to stop it. It made me think I’m not sure I can just  _ be  _ without hurting others.”

“Ah, there it is,” he said, “Who here in this group has ever had a similar thought?”

Most of them raised their hands.

“Who has this kind of thoughts constantly?”

A smaller subset kept their hands raised.

“And what do we do about them?” People started mumbling. “Okay, maybe in order. Kate. Let’s start with you.”

“It’s important not to feel any misplaced guilt,” she said, “To identify what is and isn’t in my control.”

“Very good,” he said, “What else? Someone else?”

An older man raised his hand. The leader motioned for him to talk. “I just make sure I’m ready.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“I mean,” the man said, “I know what I can do. I know what kind of accidents can happen. I’m ready to fix them at any time.”

“What if your accidents kill people?” Jack asked, “What then?”

The group fell silent. The leader sighed. “Well,” he said, “We should always take precautions.”

“Short of pretending to be completely human,” Jack said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Unfortunately,” the leader said, “If there was a universal answer to this, many of us wouldn’t be here today,” he said, “It’s important to realize that. To realize the struggles that we will have to deal with our entire lives.”

“But I don’t  _ want to.” _

“No one does, dude,” someone said, “But that’s life for you. You have to do shit you don’t want.”

“But doesn’t that make me bad by default?” Jack asked, “If I have to just...be constantly on the watch for things like this, does that not mean I’m designed to hurt?”

“Who cares how you’re  _ designed?” _

“And it doesn’t mean that,” the leader said, “Not necessarily, by any means. Being conscious and  _ accountable,  _ that’s just something everyone has to do. Regardless of their inherent design.”

“Accountable.”

“Yes,” the leader said, “Accountability is a huge factor here. Especially within our community,” he said, “Where most laws don’t apply.”

“What do I do, then?” Jack said, “How do I  _ be _ accountable?”

“Great question!” the leader said, “Anyone want to take this one?”

A woman raised her hand. “You right your wrongs,” she said, “If you can fix it directly, great,” she said, “If you can even make it a little better for those you harmed, also good,” she said, “But if you can’t—then you have to balance the scales elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“There’s always something to be done,” she said, “Something kind. Or good.”

“Great answer,” the leader said, “And since this is mostly a self-governed kind of thing,” he said, “You have to determine what kind of reaction is necessary from your side.”

“I see.”

“Now!” The leader said, “Who else wants to share?”

—

This time, it wasn’t a forest.

It was actually well within reach of public transport, but since Jesse knew the exact spot, his zapping was much more accurate this time. The place was still behind a huge warehouse, so no one was really nearby, save for the cars on the road and the one person that was walking their dog. It was technically summer, but still a bit chilly out. Jesse regretted not going back for a jacket, but seeing it was almost all the way dark, he didn’t exactly have much time.

The werewolf didn’t give him a name, but she also wasn’t hidden like Klaus was. She stood, completely coherent—no blood, nothing—with her arms crossed in the middle of the empty lot.

“You’re Jesse?”

“Yup,” he said, “You need my help?”

She scanned him head to toe. “Something like that,” she said, “Did anyone come with you?”

“Why do you ask?”

_ “Did anyone come with you?” _

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Good,” she said, “You got your tools?”

“Tools?”

“Ingredients,” she said, “Spells, whatever.”

“Uh…”

“You know why you’re here, don’t you?”

“I...do?” he said, “Sorry, this is super weird. You called me here for  _ you,  _ right?”

“No,” she said, “Follow me.”

She led him through the empty space and to a small door on the side of the warehouse. She entered a code, and the door buzzed open. Jesse was skeptical, but then again, nothing he can’t handle. He followed her through the door and up a bunch of metallic stairs to a space overlooking the entirety of the warehouse.

There must’ve been at least a hundred people there.

A hundred very fidgety people, some adults, but mostly children. Some toddlers, some older. If he had to guess, the kids ranged between 2 and 12 years old. What—“The children,” she said, “We want them to turn.”

“Turn?” he repeated,  _ “Human?” _

“Yes.”

“They’re all werewolves?”

“Yes,” she said, “All born into it.”

“I don’t know…”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You said you can turn  _ anyone.” _

“I mean, technically, yes, but—”

“But  _ what?” _

“I don’t know about turning  _ kids… _ what—why do you even want that?”

“Why do you need an explanation?” she asked, exasperated, “We can pay.”

“I never asked for money.”

“Then what do you want, huh?” she asked, “Why do you even offer to do this?”

“I have my reasons,” he said, “What are  _ yours?” _

“We want them to have normal lives,” she said, “We want them to integrate.”

“Werewolves have been integrating into society since the start of time.”

“It’s getting harder and harder,” she said, “There’s constant surveillance everywhere. The Men of Letters even monitor online activity—they buy data from social media companies to determine who might be non-human. We need them to genuinely integrate. They need to be human.”

“But—” He blinked. “I don’t think—I don’t know. You should’ve mentioned this. What do the kids think?”

“Who cares what they think?” she asked, “They’re children. They don’t know any better.”

Usually, he didn’t really discuss the details of what he can or can’t do with the people he turned. And usually, he wouldn’t care much about the reasons someone might call for him or find his contact info online. But this just felt icky from the start. “Sorry,” he said, “No can do.”

_ “No can do?” _

“Yeah,” he said, “Find some other way to get them to ‘integrate’. I’m out.”

“What are you?” she asked, arms crossed, “A witch? Warlock?”

_ “Yeah,  _ I’m out of here.” She grabbed his upper arm and he could’ve left. He could’ve just zapped. But the confidence she had was amusing, if he was being honest. “Seriously?”

“You teleported here,” she said, “Our cameras caught it. And if it’s not a spell…”

“Hm?”

“There’s not a lot of things you can be.”

“Trust me,” he said, a calm smile on his face, “You don’t want to find out what I am.”

She let go of his arm. “Okay,” she said, “Not a problem.” She moved to the edge of the rail. “He won’t do it.”

And like clockwork, every adult in the room moved to the corners and drew weapons aimed towards the children, who in turn started to shift and try to defend themselves, only to be stopped by what looked like a force keeping them in and the adults out.

“You’re hunters.”

“And  _ you  _ don’t have the ability to see what we are. Which is interesting,” she said, “We had some theories after Klaus…”

So Klaus was some sort of bait. Perfect. Probably dead, too. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said, “You know what? Fine.  _ Fine, _ you win.”

“Oh?”

He took a deep breath. Unfortunately, his powers didn’t include the ability to detect if he was being recorded and just how much shit he was in right now. But he could still think of some way to get those kids out and those hunters far, far away. He just needed to stall. “I’ll do it.”

She pointed to one of the guards and they put their guns down just a bit. Just enough to show they aren’t ready to shoot, but not enough to give him any kind of leeway. He could turn them all into stone. Or into any other thing, really. But he had no idea what or who was watching. He was on his turf, and there was no way he was going to make public what he can or can’t do. Not unless he was ready for a hunt for him. With his face known. Again.

It was exhausting just to think about it.

“Go ahead then.”

He leaned on the rail and tried to get a quick mental image of all the non-hunters that were in there. He then, as dramatically as he could, raised his hands up as if to pray and zapped every single one of them away. He really hoped they actually knew where they lived and it wasn’t somehow compromised by hunters already, because that’s where he sent them.

“We figured you’d try something like that.”

The next thing Jesse felt was a bang to the back of his head. And then, nothing.


	6. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while to say the least. Life is hectic and writing is hard, but here it is! Hopefully the next part won't be nearly as late.  
Enjoy~

Ah, violence.

It’s the first thing that comes to mind in the context of so-called “monsters,” isn’t it? Someone says they met an actual real-life ghoul and they’re immediately met by one of two things: either disbelief, or horror. They don’t ask. They don’t clarify. Not about the person anyway. They don’t know that the ghoul’s name is Pam. Who’s a nice person, by the way. She bakes on weekends and brings full cakes to work the following Monday. But no one cares about that. Everyone assumes Pam must’ve somehow attacked the narrator, or wanted to at the very least.

No one asks those same questions about humans, though.

This was one of the things that fueled many a moody night when Jesse was a teenager and the world was just _ so unfair. _ Now, it’s more of an afterthought. Something that comes up rarely. Like, you know, when you’re tied up in some room with silver chains, doused in holy water (which only mildly stings, but who wants to sit in wet clothes?), dried blood on the back of your neck from your very-miraculously-healed wound, and you’ve just regained consciousness because some _ assholes _decided the one true response to finding someone with powers who has done absolutely nothing to them and is, by their own admission, doing a public good, is to injure and kidnap them.

But, sure. _ He’s _ the bad guy.

“That took you a total of,” the hunter said, looking at her watch, “five minutes. Impressive.” She leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs. Very neat. He, on the other hand, was basically thrown on the floor, hands tied behind his back, legs tied together and barely touching the edge of the devil’s trap. Which was also surrounded by a ring of holy fire. All, combined with the spells on his chains, were useless. But he wasn’t about to flaunt that. Not _ just _to escape the awkward angle she created anyway. “You know, a wound like that would’ve killed someone human.”

“And you just _ had _ to take that risk, didn’t you?”

She just shrugged. “What can I say?” she said, “I had a gut feeling.”

They were still in that warehouse. There were maybe a dozen hunters or so, mostly armed, roaming or otherwise anticipating any move from him. It would be so easy. So incredibly easy. But something told him that they wouldn’t just let it go if he, say, simply disappeared. Or zapped _ them _ elsewhere, like he did those kids. Maybe he _ could _ turn them into stone. Or miniature figures. Or rats! That’s always a good one. Maybe he could even make them _ talking _rats. And keep a few as pets. Well, until Lucifur got a hold of them anyway.

But it wasn’t that simple, was it?

In some ways, it was. Like the actual, physical ways. It wouldn’t take him a second, really. Even with the headache that was apparently more psychological than physical at this point. But he had no idea if he was being recorded, or streamed, or otherwise monitored. He didn’t know if this was yet another observation attempt by someone higher up than those goons. Maybe he watched one too many movies, but the thought of being ambushed like this in his fucking _ home _made him uneasy. He hadn’t been hunted ever since he moved here.

Not once.

He just took his precautions from the very start. What happened with his friends and the circumstances surrounding the move itself didn’t help, either. He wanted to be left alone, and he was. And to be caught off guard like this was a little insulting, but mostly a major pain in the ass. He couldn’t just anticipate every single scenario and fight it with some reality-bending powers.

He had to get out of this the human-esque way.

Well, maybe not completely. But he at least had to stall to give himself time to think. “What do you want?”

“Me?” she said, “I don’t want anything.” Why is she smug? Why are they _ always _ smug? “Just have a few questions for you.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Interesting work you did with Klaus,” she said, “He almost passed as human.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah,” she said, “It was the weirdest thing; he checked all the obvious boxes—the fangs? The thirst? All gone,” she said, “But not his blood.”

“His blood.”

“Yeah,” she said, “His blood was still one-hundred percent vampire.”

“His _ blood.” _

“I know,” she said, “He was functionally human. But his blood could still turn others.”

How could he forget about _ his blood? _ “So you had him killed.”

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course you had him killed,” he said, “How else would you prevent accidental conversions in the _ very likely _event another human would drink his blood?”

“He could’ve been a donor. We’d have an epidemic on our hands.”

She kind of had a point there. Kind of. But even a broken clock is right twice a day, or whatever appropriate cliche that matched Jesse’s desire to huff dramatically like a toddler who didn’t get his way. Fine, so what. Next time, he won’t forget about the blood. Big fucking deal. “He didn’t have to die.”

She called for one of others that were hovering around. Whispered something in his ear and watched him go. “You know,” she said, “We’ll find those werewolves.”

“The kids.”

“Yes,” she said, “And if not them, then others.”

“And I’m supposed to say what, exactly?” he said, “You don’t think I’m running around with a savior complex, do you?”

“You’re not?”

“Does it suck that you’re doing this?” he said, “Sure. Whatever. But it’s not my thing.”

“And what do you call your chat room then?” she said, “Your open offer to help?”

“None of your business, that’s what.”

“No, seriously,” she said, “If you’re not out to save every poor, poor soul out there—”

“Projecting much?”

“You care about those kids,” she said, “You cared about Klaus.”

“You mistake basic decency for caring.”

“Basic decency,” she said, “Is that what you call it? Answering some sort of bat signal, day or night—”

“Yeah,” he said, “That’s what I am. A vigilante,” he said, “A public menace.”

“I was thinking trickster, actually.”

“So get the stake already,” he said, “What are you waiting for? Out of lamb’s blood?”

“But a trickster wouldn’t be doing this,” she said, “He could, theoretically. Technically. But not really. It’s not what they do.”

Ah yes. Because anyone with a given biology must be This One Thing with This One Personality that their biology and power dictate. Sure thing. Hunters were only one or two steps ahead of people who thought there’s a monster under their bed waiting to grab them by the part of their legs outside the covers, apparently. “Sure.”

“So we’re just going to keep you for a while.”

“Is that so?”

“Just until we figure out what you are,” she said, “What you do. You get it.”

“Of course.”

“Unless, of course,” she said, “You want to cut to the chase and just tell us.”

“Aha.”

“That would just make it _ so much easier.” _

“And who am I if not eager to please, am I right?”

The same man she’d talked to earlier came back and handed her something. Maybe a new way to try and figure out what Jesse was. Exciting. Maybe he should just leave. This was a lot more boring than he thought it would be. Just your run of the mill classic hunter-who-found-someone-inexplicably-powerful routine. Maybe he could leave a clone behind and just flee himself. They can do whatever they want to it; it had no consciousness that Jesse was aware of. He just needed a fraction of a second to make the switch.

She raised what was handed to her and looked at Jesse. It was a phone—his phone, probably. Who can tell these days when they’re all rectangular and black. “You want it back? We’re done.”

“Done?”

“Cloning your data,” she said, “You know. Your contacts, your entire location history, your internet accounts, your emails, that sort of thing.”

Fuck.

“So,” she said, “You wanna cooperate? Or should we do this the old-fashioned way?”

—

_ “So.” _

Jack blinked at the woman who blocked his way out of the hall where the support group meeting was. She ran there so fast, her shirt was still a little afloat when she stopped. Soon after, as soon as they could catch up, Jack assumed, a couple of other people gathered around him. It wasn’t threatening. Not in a way that alerted him in any way anyway. Her smile was friendly, her posture casual. “Hello.”

_ “Hello,” _ she repeated, amused. “I’m Kate. This is Irene—” She pointed to one of them, the one checking her phone, “—and that’s Lukas.”

He extended a hand. “I’m Jack.”

She shook his hand. Firm. “Nice to meet you, Jack! Are you new?”

“Here? Yes.”

“I mean to the city,” she said, “Your accent is American. Am I right?”

He frowned. “You’re speaking English.” Pause. “Have we been speaking English this entire time?”

“...yes,” she said, “How many languages do you speak, dude?”

“Probably a lot,” Irene said, “If he can’t remember which one he _ just _used.”

“Or he’s tired,” Lukas said, “I know I am.”

“In a minute,” Kate told him and turned back to Jack. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

He’d been waiting for Jesse to get off work, but he didn’t have anything solid planned, no. “Not really.”

“Do you wanna hang out with us?” she asked, “Far, far away from humans. It’s been a long week so we have something special planned.”

“Something special?”

“Just go with it,” Irene said, “You won’t regret it.”

Lukas shifted. _ “Well…” _

“It’s just like camping,” Kate said, “It’s a little far, but we have a ride.”

“I’ve never gone camping before,” Jack said. He’d read about it in police reports—mainly people being attacked by bears or the like. It sounded dangerous, but not dangerous enough for people so powerful they’re afraid of being a danger to others themselves, he supposed.

“So it’s settled,” Kate said, “You’re coming with us.”

“And don’t worry,” Irene said, “You don’t need to bring anything.”

“Maybe something salty.”

“Lukas.”

“What?” he said, “It helps!”

“We’ll have plenty of snacks,” Kate reassured him, “Come on. What do you say?”

“Sure,” Jack said, “Why not?”

—

_ Is this camping? _

They were somewhere with a lot of trees. It was already starting to get dark—the strokes of orange and red were eating away at the blue slowly but steadily. They had a few tents set up, and a few _ fairies _(as Lukas pointed out) flying around that lit the place up. It was cool to watch, see everyone settle into their place. Kate gave him a box that everyone else had. She told him what was in there, but his knowledge of food was limited to say the least, so he really didn’t register what was what.

It was peaceful. Quiet.

After a while, they all sat around in a large circle on the crisp grass. There were at least ten or twelve people there. Everyone had their boxes opened, but didn’t eat anything yet. The fairies were hovering over their shoulders, and a couple of them went into Kate’s box which she seemed to be very pleased about. She stood up, holding one of the tiny rolls from the box up and said, “To less shitty weeks!”

“Hear, hear!”

She ate the whole thing in one go and grabbed another. No one else started to eat, but the fairies were getting into their boxes as well and doing _ something. _ Jack couldn’t tell what, exactly. Might be some sort of magic. Or they could just be preparing the food in their own way. The only thing he, and others around him, noticed was that there were significantly more fairies gathered around him and his box. They were communicating with each other somehow, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Kate caught on but elected to ignore it. “We didn’t think we’d make it,” she said, “But here we are!”

Jack leaned to whisper in Irene’s ear, who was right next to him. “What happened?”

“We had a bit of a run-in with some power brokers.”

“Power brokers?”

_ “Shush!” _

“We have a bit of a collection here today,” Kate said, sifting through the contents of the box. “But no worries, we’ve hired enough fairies to help out if necessary, so feel free to devour the whole thing,” she said, “I know I will.”

As she was grabbing the bottle she had on the ground next to her leg, Jack felt a sharp pain in his skull, followed by the oh-so-familiar prayers he’d been successfully ignoring until now. There was something else there, too. Something that had a layer of urgency he hadn’t felt before. Made him feel like he was supposed to be doing _ something_. No. Nope. Nothing. He was going to stay here and not think about anything else, dammit.

One of the fairies nudged his hand towards the food.

“Prost!”

_ “Prost!” _

Jack didn’t have a drink, so he just held up his box like some of the people were. The pain in his head was getting ridiculous at this point—so disruptive his vision started getting a little blurry. But as people started eating, and he did as well, all of it—the pain, the voices, everything—rapidly subsided. Finally. _ Finally. _

He didn’t stop eating until the whole box was done.

Only after he did, after his vision came back sharper than it was before, that he noticed the small notes under the rolls. Again, no frame of reference. Some of them had more exclamation marks than others, but overall he felt okay. More than okay. He’d never felt this good, this refreshed, his entire existence.

“Whoa.”

“What?”

“Your eyes,” Irene said, her own pupils dilated and her claws emerging slowly but steadily, sinking into the grass beneath her. “So golden.”

“They are?” Jack asked, “Now?”

She nodded. “So pretty.”

He smiled and fell back on the ground. He’d never felt the grass on his face before. It was a good feeling. Was this what life was without angel radio? Without prayers? Because it was _ good. _ He kept thinking the word _ good _a lot. Were there other adjectives? Relaxing. Easy. Amazing. What else? The air smelled nice. The air smelled like the way he felt seeing his mom for the first time. Did that make sense? It did to him.

By then, the sky had darkened completely. Not enough for stars to be visible just yet, so he raised his hand, waved it around, and watched as the entire sky lit with what seemed like a million little stars. Sparkling, beautiful. No exact shape, he thought. Just beautiful. He heard mumbling from some people next to him, and soon enough, most of them had gathered there, watching the sky with him.

Did he mention he felt _ good? _

“You’re not an ordinary angel, are you?”

“Not an angel,” Jack said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Ah,” Kate said, laying next to him, “My bad. Your wings…”

He just shrugged.

It didn’t take long for the attention on him to dissipate. People fell into their own rhythms and let him be, and all he wanted to be was asleep. If this was what he felt awake, imagine how great it would be to sleep in peace. No disruptions, no uneasiness, nothing. Maybe his body _ did _need more sleep, and all this time he just couldn’t have it. Maybe whatever he ate was the cure to what he thought was the way his body functioned.

Either way, he closed his eyes.

It didn’t feel like a lot of time passed, but when he opened his eyes, he was somewhere completely different. A basement of some sort. He got up and wobbled, and the room shifted. He was no longer in a basement, but a desert. It was night and _ freezing. _He blinked and found himself somewhere else still. He kept hopping like that, like he was inside a television someone was flipping through, until something made him stop.

Or rather, someone.

Lenny was still in his guard uniform. “Still.” He still had injury that killed him, or it looked like it to Jack anyway. He stood across the street from him, dazed and confused. “You,” he said, “You were there. You did this! You killed me!”

Jack wasn’t sure what was happening, or where he was. Heaven? No. No, right? He couldn’t. Not that easily. Could he? And wasn’t heaven supposed to be good for those in there? Wasn’t Lenny supposed to be happy right now? He didn’t look happy. He looked like he was frozen in time right after his death. It took him a moment, but Jack rushed towards him. “I’m sorry!” he said, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—if there’s anything I can do, anything I can say—”

“You _ killed me.” _

What was that about him feeling good? Yeah. No longer true.

“I swear,” Jack said, “It was an accident. I never meant to harm you.”

“Why didn’t you try and stop it then?”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you heal me?”

“I—” Jack stopped, hands falling to his sides. Why _ didn’t he _ heal him? “I can do that?”

“Well, if your angel friend can,” he said, “And you can do everything angels can and _ more, _it only makes sense that you could.”

“But,” Jack said, frowning, “Castiel couldn’t heal you. He said it was too late.”

“Yeah but he also doesn’t have half the juice you have,” he said, “You can fly and he can’t. You brought an angel back from _ The Empty. _A place famous for not bringing anyone back, ever. But you couldn’t swing this? Please.”

_ What? _

“You were there faster, too,” he said, “If you’d even tried, I bet I’d still be alive.”

“How—” Jack stammered, taking a step back, “How do you know all this?”

“How am I even here?”

“What?”

Before he could say anything, Lenny disappeared. Vanished into a cloud of smoke. The ground under Jack’s feet shook until he fell down. He looked up to see himself elsewhere, again. Back at the camp for a quick second, but soon afterwards, he was somewhere else. Somewhere he recognized, even without being there himself. Without ever seeing it firsthand.

It was that universe. The one he opened a portal to when he was born.

He didn’t know what called him to that specific universe. Maybe it was the way it turned out—destroyed by a version of paradise an archangel had in mind. The exact way he’d promised Castiel, not long before he was born, he would avoid. The polar opposite of everything he wanted on a basic level. Everything his soul was drawn to before he could even form conscious thought.

Or maybe it was purely random.

But he could still remember _ it. _ The way it felt. The way it drew him close. He coughed out the dirt that got stuck in his throat—what were those triangular shapes? They didn’t resemble anything he knew from his world. But everything was so vivid, so _ real _ that he really thought he was somehow _ there. _

He wasn’t, _ was he? _

His heart was pounding in his chest. The only thought that echoed through his mind was _ redemption. _ He was _ there. _He could open that interdimensional can, so to speak. Or something else opened it for him. It didn’t matter how or why, but he was there, and he could fix things, things he screwed up before. Like Sam and Dean’s mother, Mary.

So why did it feel like his feet were fixed to the ground?

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t even try. He just watched as the sand blew in his face, the wind almost knocking him over again, until everything changed one more time. “Wait—” He didn’t know who he was even talking to, but it was the only thing he could think to do. Otherwise, he would’ve just watched until he was back at the camp.

Still laying down. Like nothing had happened.

No one around him was alarmed. Nothing looked out of place. In fact, it didn’t seem like much happened at all. He sat up and buried his head in his hands. Let out a deep breath. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

Jack’s head perked up at that voice. Jesse. What was Jesse doing there? No, no—“Not again.”

“Not again?” Jesse repeated.

He wasn’t at the camp anymore, but in some dimly lit room. Jesse was tied up in a corner, looking like he’d been run over by a truck from the state of his clothes and the dried blood on his neck. He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. Lenny wasn’t real, and Jesse was at work. Jack’s head or powers or the fairies or a combination of some or all was messing with him.

He sighed.

Jesse pushed himself back so his back was straighter against the wall. “What is it?” he asked, “What’s happening?”

“You’re not real.”

“I’m...not real?”

“No,” Jack said. He waved a hand and “Jesse” was free from his ties. His blood disappeared, too. Maybe he wasn’t real, but the visual just irked Jack.

Jesse’s eyes widened and his shackles found their place back. Even the blood re-appeared. “Are you fucking trying to get us killed?”

“Killed.”

“Yes, you moron,” Jesse said, “I have a plan.”

“A plan.”

“Well,” Jesse said, “I’m working on one. But they can’t know—they already know too much. I can only talk to you because you’re not actually fucking here, so I’m not actually talking to anyone.”

Jack inspected the room one more time. What—“Who are you talking about?”

Jesse sighed. “Isn’t one of the main perks of having you in my head or whatever is that you know what’s going on all the time?”

“You’re Jesse. You’re _ actually _Jesse. What happened? Weren’t you at work?”

“...dude.”

“Why are you hurt?” he asked, “_ Are you _still hurt? Where are you? Who did this to you—”

“Slow down.”

“—and when did this happen? I—”

“Jack.”

“You were at work!”

_ “Jack.” _Jesse inched a little in his general direction. “Slow down. Are you—” He stopped. “You’re fucking high. That’s why—your eyes—Jesus.”

“I’m not high,” Jack said, “What does that mean?”

“It means you should go home,” Jesse said, “My place. Was it fairy magic? I don’t know of anything else that can make someone like you—nevermind. I have a spell somewhere. If you look in the third bookshelf on—”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Sure you are,” he said, “You’ll find a big binder. Lucifur knows not to knock it over but he’s an asshole so maybe he has and it’s behind the couch. It’s big and blue and—”

“You’re in danger.”

“We can deal with that later. Right now just—”

“No,” Jack said, “No. I’m not leaving. I’m flying to you right now—”

_ “No!” _Jesse said, “No! Listen. They’re hunters. And they already know too much about me—”

“But you didn’t do anything to be hunted, did you?”

“Jack, I beg you,” Jesse said, “Just let me finish one fucking sentence.”

“Sorry.”

“They know too much about me,” he said, “Actually, I think you shouldn’t go home. I think they might have someone there already. They might have someone at the club, too. Fuck. I don’t know.”

“You need help.”

“And I need to warn the others.”

“We can leave,” Jack said, “Right now. Go anywhere.”

“I’m not running away,” Jesse said, “This is my _ home, _do you get that?” He paused. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I just can’t leave.”

“I know,” Jack said, “I mean you don’t have to stay in this room.”

“I just don’t know if I’m being watched,” he said, “I can leave a clone behind and find a way to get to Tamara and the others before they get to them. I just need a second.”

Jack stood up and started marching around the room. “Here.” He pointed at the corner. “Only one camera. There’s maybe a maximum of 30 frames per second if it’s not something too sophisticated.”

“How do you even know this?”

“Hunters,” he said. Sam and Dean tapped into security cameras all the time. Sam explained frame rates once to Jack, told him how, while 30 frames is good enough for most security camera uses, it fails to capture stuff that were too fast for it to capture. They had a window here. “Can you do it in less than a thirtieth of a second?”

“I can try.”

“You can also—” He pointed up and watched as the light bulb glitched. “Should help you.”

“Damn,” Jesse said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, “Where are you?”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna need a place to go that’s not home or work, just for now, so they don’t figure out it’s not me in here.”

Jack smiled. It clicked—helping, doing hunter’s work. Even if it was on the opposite side of what he was used to. “I can show you.”

(to be continued.)


End file.
